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STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY 
OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON  •   CHICAGO  •   DALLAS 
ATLANTA   •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO..  LIMITED 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY   •   CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OP  CANADA.  LTD. 

TORONTO 


Studies  in  the  Theory 
of  Human  Society 


BY 
FRANKLIN  H.  GIDDINGS,  LL.D. 

PROFESSOR    OF    SOCIOLOGY    AND    THE    HISTORY    OF 

CIVILIZATION  IN  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY. 
MEMBER    OF    THE    NATIONAL    INSTITUTE   OF   ARTS 

AND   LETTERS. 

FELLOW     OF     THE     AMERICAN     STATISTICAL     ASSO- 
CIATION. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1922 

All  rights  reserved 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


COPYRIGHT,  1922, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  February.  1922. 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


SAiSTA  BAiiiiAKA 


PREFACE 

These  consecutive  studies  are  a  book  of  Sociology  without  the 
form  or  the  formality  of  a  text.  The  discursive  manner  has 
permitted  me  to  reiterate  cardinal  ideas  and  principles,  exhibiting 
them  in  many  lights  and  relations.  I  have  thought  this  important 
in  these  days  of  loose  thinking  on  social  themes. 

The  theory  of  human  society  into  which  these  ideas  are  or- 
ganized is  stated  in  Chapter  XVI,  as  follows : 

"If  I  can  be  said  to  have  a  system  of  sociology  it  is  briefly  this: 

"i.  A  situation  or  stimulus  is  reacted  to  by  more  than  one 
individual;  there  is  pluralistic  as  well  as  singularistic  behavior. 
Pluralistic  behavior  develops  into  rivalries,  competitions,  and  con- 
flicts, and  also,  into  agreements,  contracts,  and  collective  enter- 
prises. Therefore,  social  phenomena  are  products  of  two  vari- 
ables, namely,  situation  (in  the  psychologist's  definition  of  the 
word)  and  pluralistic  behavior. 

"2.  When  the  individuals  who  participate  in  pluralistic  be- 
havior have  become  differentiated  into  behavioristic  kinds  or 
types,  a  consciousness  of  kind,  liking  or  disliking,  approving  or 
disapproving  one  kind  after  another,  converts  gregariousness 
into  a  consciously  discriminative  association,  herd  habit  into  so- 
ciety; and  society,  by  a  social  pressure  which  sometimes  is  con- 
scious but  more  often,  perhaps,  is  unconscious,  makes  life  rela- 
tively hard  for  kinds  of  character  and  conduct  that  are  disap- 
proved. 

"3.  Society  organizes  itself  for  collective  endeavor  and  achieve- 
ment if  fundamental  similarities  of  behavior  and  an  awareness 
of  them  are  extensive  enough  to  maintain  social  cohesion,  while 
differences  of  behavior  and  awareness  of  them  in  matters  of  de- 
tail are  sufficient  to  create  a  division  of  labor. 

"4.  In  the  long  run  organized  society  by  its  approvals  and  dis- 
approvals, its  pressures  and  achievements,  selects  and  perpetuates 


vi  PREFACE 

the  types  of  mind  and  character  that  are  relatively  intelligent, 
tolerant,  and  helpful,  that  exhibit  initiative,  that  bear  their  share 
of  responsibility,  and  that  effectively  play  their  part  in  collective 
enterprise.  It  selects  and  perpetuates  the  adequate." 

I  have  endeavored  to  bring  discussion  and  exposition  to  date. 
The  nearly  completed  first  quarter  of  the  Twentieth  Century  has 
not  been  marked  by  discoveries  comparable  to  those  that  lifted 
the  second  half  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  above  all  other  years 
in  the  history  of  knowledge;  but  it  has  been  a  time  of  rectifica- 
tion in  science.  Logic  has  abandoned  absolutes  for  variables, 
and  pigeon  hole  classifications  for  frequency  distributions. 
Physics  and  chemistry  have  begun  to  build  from  electrons.  Bi- 
ology has  become  experimental  and  Mendelian.  Psychology  has 
become  experimental  and  objective.  It  has  discriminated  between 
reflex  and  conditioning;  between  original  nature  and  habit. 
Anthropology  has  discovered  elements  of  religion  older  than 
ghosts,  and  found  more  variates  of  primitive  social  organization 
than  Morgan  and  McLennan  knew.  These  corrections  of  fun- 
damental notions  and  of  inductions  that  are  data  of  sociology 
have  made  the  revision  of  sociology  obligatory.  I  offer  here  an 
individual  contribution  to  that  formidable  undertaking.  A  large 
part  of  the  content  of  the  volume  is  entirely  new.  Materials  that 
in  a  cruder  form  have  been  printed  in  various  journals  and  pro- 
ceedings, and  a  small  portion  taken  over  from  Democracy  and 
Empire  now  out  of  print,  have  been  worked  over  to  the  extent 
of  being  nearly  rewritten. 

The  chapter  on  "Order  and  Possibility"  is  not  strictly  a  part, 
but  it  sets  forth  prolegomena  (as  I  conceive  them)  of  a  scientific 
theory  of  human  society.  Many  students  of  both  psychology  and 
sociology  continue  to  worry  over  "determinism,"  and  in  par- 
ticular over  "mechanistic"  theories  of  life.  Just  what  happens 
to  their  apprehensions  when  the  discriminations  of  a  statistical 
way  of  thinking  are  applied  to  them  has  not,  I  believe,  before 
been  pointed  out. 

I  am  grateful  to  friends  and  colleagues  for  helpful  criticisms 
and  suggestions;  and  especially  grateful  to  student  members  of 
my  research  group  for  untiring  aid  in  "checking  up"  and  "trying 
out." 


CONTENTS 

I 

HISTORICAL 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.   THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  HUMAN  EXISTENCE  ....  3 

II.   THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  CULTURE J9 

III.  THE  ECONOMIC  AGES 33 

IV.  THE  QUALITY  OF  CIVILIZATION 57 

V.   A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY 66 

VI.   THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY 94 

II 
ANALYTICAL 

VII.   ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY 127 

VIII.   A  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  CAUSATION 144 

IX.   THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY 154 

X.   THE  GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS  175 

XI.    FOLKWAYS  AND  STATEWAYS 190 

XII.    SOCIAL  SELF  CONTROL 197 

XIII.  SOCIAL  THEORY  AND  PUBLIC  POLICY 209 

XIV.  THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS 224 

III 
SYNTHETIC 

XV.   PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR 249 

XVI.   FURTHER  INQUIRIES  OF  SOCIOLOGY     .....  291 

INDEX 303 


PART  I 
HISTORICAL 


STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF 
HUMAN  SOCIETY 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   STRUGGLE   FOR   HUMAN    EXISTENCE 

REVOLUTIONIZING  as  the  life  work  of  Charles  Darwin  was  in 
the  fields  of  biology  and  psychology,  one  may  doubt  if  his  writings 
disturbed  the  intellectual  peace  anywhere  more  profoundly  than 
in  the  already  perturbed  realms  of  pre-Darwinian  social  philos- 
ophy. Borrowing  a  shocking  thought  from  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Robert  Malthus,  Mr.  Darwin,  in  due  course  of  time,  gave  it  back 
to  Malthusians  and  Godwinites,  to  Ricardians  and  Ruskinites,  to 
Benthamites  and  Owenites,  with  a  new  and  terrific  voltage. 

Nine  years  before  The  Origin  of  Species  was  published, 
Herbert  Spencer,  in  the  concluding  chapters  of  Social  Statics, 
had  offered  an  explanation  of  society  in  terms  of  a  progressive 
human  nature,  adapting  itself  to  changing  conditions  of  life. 
These  chapters  are  the  germ  of  that  inclusive  conception  and 
theory  of  evolution  which  were  elaborated  in  the  ten  volumes  of 
the  Synthetic  Philosophy.  Five  years  later,  or  four  years  be- 
fore The  Origin  of  Species  saw  the  light,  Mr.  Spencer,  in  the 
first  edition  of  his  Principles  of  Psychology,  set  forth  an  original 
interpretation  of  life,  including  mental  and  social  life,  as  a  cor- 
respondence of  internal  relations  to  external  relations,  initiated 
and  directed  by  the  external  relations.  Finally,  in  April,  1857, 
Mr.  Spencer  published,  in  The  Westminster  Review,  the  provo- 
cative paper  on  "Progress :  Its  Law  and  Cause,"  in  which  a  law 
of  evolution  was  partially  formulated,  and  evolution  was  declared 
to  be  the  process  of  the  universe  and  of  all  that  it  contains. 

3 


4        STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

Mr.  Spencer  thus  had  seen  evolution  comprehensively,  as  adap- 
tation and  differentiation.  He  had  not  yet  mentally  grasped  the 
universal  redistribution  of  energy  and  matter,  wherein  every  finite 
aggregate  of  material  units,  radiating  energy  into  surrounding 
space,  or  absorbing  energy  therefrom,  draws  itself  together  in 
order-making  coherence,  or  distributes  itself  abroad  in  riotous 
disintegration.  That  universal  equilibration,  which  in  fact  is  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  material  transformation,  was  the  aspect 
of  the  world  which  in  thought  Mr.  Spencer  arrived  at  last  of  all. 

It  is  not  given  to  any  one  human  intellect  to  discover  all  truth, 
and  there  is  more  in  evolution  than  even  Mr.  Spencer  perceived, 
either  at  the  beginning  of  his  great  work,  or  in  the  fulness  of  his 
powers.1  Intent  upon  the  broader  aspects  of  cosmic  change,  his 
mind  did  not  seize  upon  certain  implications  of  rearrangement. 
In  the  concrete  world  of  living  organisms,  equilibration  becomes 
the  relentless  struggle  for  existence,  in  which  the  weakest  go  to 
the  wall.  Natural  selection  follows.  It  was  this  intensely  con- 
crete aspect  that  Mr.  Darwin  saw,  and  intellectually  mastered. 

The  distinction  here  indicated  between  evolution  as  a  universal 
process,  comprehensively  described  by  Spencer,  and  Darwinism, 
or  Mr.  Darwin's  account  of  one  vitally  important  and  concrete 
phase  of  that  process,  has  often  been  noted,  and  is  usually  ob- 
served by  careful  writers.  It  is  of  particular  importance  in  any 
discussion  of  social  evolution.  One  cannot  hope  to  get  far  in  a 
theoretical  study  of  human  society  if  he  does  not  heed  the  extent 
to  which  our  explanations  of  social  origins,  our  philosophies  of 
history  and  of  human  institutions,  have  become  not  only  evolution- 
ist, in  the  Spencerian  sense  of  the  word,  but  also  Darwinian. 

It  was  not  until  the  publication  of  The  Descent  of  Man,  in 
1871,  when  controversy  over  The  Origin  of  Species  had  raged 
through  twelve  years  of  intellectual  tempest,  that  the  full  signifi- 
cance of  natural  selection  for  the  doctrine  of  human  progress  was 
apprehended  by  the  scientific  world.  Mr.  Spencer  saw  it  when 

1  And  he  did  not  finally  reduce  his  general  formula  to  its  lowest  terms. 
As  "universal,"  evolution  is  but  a  progressive  emergence  of  order  out  of 
turbulence,  and  therefore  a  progressive  complication  of  relationships.  All 
other  aspects  of  evolution  are  particularistic,  for  example,  they  are  astro- 
nomical or  biological,  or  psychological  or  political,  and  no  two  of  them  are 
of  quite  identical  pattern. 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  HUMAN  EXISTENCE  5 

The  Origin  of  Species  appeared.  Mr.  Darwin  himself  had  per- 
ceived that  he  must  offer  a  credible  explanation  of  the  paradox 
that  a  ruthless  struggle  for  existence  yields  the  peaceable  fruits 
of  righteousness.  But  it  was  neither  Mr.  Spencer,  nor  Mr.  Dar- 
win, who  first  recognized  the  specific  phase  of  the  life  struggle  in 
which  the  clue  to  the  mystery  might  be  sought.  The  gifted  thinker 
who  made  that  discovery  was  Walter  Bagehot,  editor  of  the  Lon- 
don Economist,  whose  little  book  on  Physics  and  Politics  or 
Thoughts  on  the  Application  of  the  Principles  of  Natural  Selec- 
tion and  Inheritance  to  Political  Society,  was  published  first  as  a 
series  of  articles  in  The  Fortnightly  Review,  beginning  in  Novem- 
ber, 1867.  Mr.  Darwin  rightly  calls  these  articles  "remarkable." 
Revised  and  put  together  in  book  form  they  made  a  volume  of 
only  two  hundred  and  twenty-three  small  pages  in  large  type,  but 
no  more  original,  brilliant  or,  as  far  as  it  goes,  satisfactory  exami- 
nation of  the  deeper  problems  of  social  causation  has  ever  been 
offered  from  that  day  until  now.  It  anticipated  much  that  is  most 
valuable  in  later  exposition. 

In  the  Social  Statics,  Mr.  Spencer  had  shown  that  primitive 
man,  subsisting  upon  inferior  species  and  contending  with  them 
for  standing  room  and  safety,  necessarily  developed  a  human 
nature  adapted  to  the  task  of  slaughter,  cruel,  therefore,  and  un- 
scrupulous ;  but  that  triumphant  posterity,  inheriting  a  subjugated 
world,  and  no  longer  bound  to  kill,  might  become  sympathetic 
enough  to  cooperate  successfully  in  peaceful  activities.  The  exact 
relation,  however,  of  this  process  to  group  formation  or  to  the 
collective  activity  of  a  cooperating  group  when  formed,  Mr. 
Spencer  at  this  time  certainly  did  not  see.  For,  incredible  though 
it  may  seem,  Mr.  Spencer  did  not  at  this  time  so  much  as  make 
note  of  the  terrific  struggles  for  control  of  food-getting  oppor- 
tunities that  occur  among  individuals  or  between  groups  of  the 
same  species,  or  variety.  Conflict  among  men  of  the  same  cul- 
tural attainments  Mr.  Spencer  thought  of  only  as  prompted  by 
surviving  savage  instincts,  engendered  by  predatory  habits,  in  the 
lawless  youth  of  the  race. 

It  was  specifically  the  phenomena  of  group  solidarity  and  of  col- 
lective conflict,  in  distinction  from  a  merely  individual  struggle 
for  existence,  which  Mr.  Bagehot  selected  for  examination,  and 


6        STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

his  mind  penetrated  directly  to  the  essential  conditions  of  the 
problem.    He  said: 

"The  progress  of  man  requires  the  cooperation  of  men  for  its  develop- 
ment. .  .  .  The  first  principle  of  the  subject  is  that  man  can  only  make 
progress  in  'cooperative  groups';  I  might  say  tribes  and  nations,  but  I 
use  the  less  common  word  because  few  people  would  at  once  see  that 
tribes  and  nations  are  cooperative  groups,  and  that  it  is  their  being  so 
which  makes  their  value;  that  unless  you  can  make  a  strong  cooperative 
bond,  your  society  will  be  conquered  and  killed  out  by  some  other  society 
which  has  such  a  bond;  and  the  second  principle  is  that  the  members  of 
such  a  group  should  be  similar  enough  to  one  another  to  cooperate  easily 
and  readily  together.  The  cooperation  in  all  such  cases  depends  on  a 
felt  union  of  heart  and  spirit;  and  this  is  only  felt  when  there  is  a  great 
degree  of  real  likeness  in  mind  and  feeling,  however  that  likeness  may 
have  been  attained."  l 

Addressing  himself  to  the  question  how  the  necessary  likeness 
in  mind  and  feeling  is  produced,  Mr.  Bagehot  answers:  By  one 
of  the  most  terrible  tyrannies  ever  known  among  men,  namely, 
the  authority  of  customary  law ;  and  in  accounting  for  the  origin 
and  force  of  custom,  he  develops  a  theory  of  the  function  of  imi- 
tation which  anticipates  much,  but  by  no  means  all,  of  the  socio- 
logical theory  of  Gabriel  Tarde.  Custom,  however,  tends  to  create 
a  degree  of  similarity  among  social  units,  and  an  unchanging  way 
of  life,  fatal  to  further  progress.  To  reintroduce  and  to  maintain 
certain  possibilities  and  tendencies  toward  variation  is,  as  Bagehot 
sees  the  process,  one  of  the  chief  uses  of  conflict.  Social  evolu- 
tion thus  proceeds  through  the  conflict  of  antagonistic  tendencies, 
on  the  one  hand  toward  uniformity  and  solidarity;  on  the  other 
hand  toward  variation  and  individuality.  In  some  groups,  one  of 
these  tendencies  predominates.  Contending  together,  group  with 
group,  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  those  groups  survive  in  which 
the  balancing  of  these  tendencies  secures  the  greatest  group  effi- 
ciency. It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  in  this  interpretation,  Mr. 
Bagehot  arrived  at  conclusions  which  to-day  we  recognize  as  be- 
longing to  the  theoretical  core  of  a  scientific  sociology. 

Mr.  Darwin,  in  those  chapters  of  The  Descent  of  Man  in 
which  he  treats  of  the  origin  of  social  habits  and  the  moral  facul- 
ties, adopts  in  substance  the  conclusions  of  Mr.  Bagehot,  and  with 

1  Physics  and  Politics,  pp.  212,  213. 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  HUMAN  EXISTENCE  7 

his  keen  sense  for  what  is  essential,  lays  emphasis  upon  four 
facts,  namely :  ( I )  the  importance  of  group  or  tribal  cohesion  as  a 
factor  of  success  in  intertribal  struggle,  (2)  the  importance  of 
sympathy  as  a  factor  in  group  cohesion,  (3)  the  importance  of 
mutual  fidelity  and  unselfish  courage,  and  (4)  the  great  part 
played  by  sensitiveness  to  praise  and  blame  in  developing  both 
unselfish  courage  and  fidelity.  In  terms  of  these  four  facts,  Mr. 
Darwin  finds  an  answer  to  the  question,  how,  within  the  condi- 
tions fixed  by  a  struggle  for  existence,  social  and  moral  qualities 
could  tend  slowly  to  advance  and  to  be  diffused  throughout  the 
world. 

That  the  studies  of  both  Mr.  Bagehot  and  Mr.  Darwin  left 
much  still  to  be  said  on  the  subject  of  group  feeling  and  coopera- 
tive solidarity  was  shown  when,  in  1890,  Prince  Peter  Alekseevich 
Kropotkin  published  in  The  Nineteenth  Century  his  fascinating 
articles  on  Mutual  Aid  among  Animals,  afterwards  supple- 
mented by  studies  of  mutual  aid  among  savages  and  among  bar- 
barians. These  articles  contained  nothing  essentially  new  in 
theory,  but  they  contributed  to  our  knowledge  an  imposing  mass 
of  facts  demonstrating  how  great  has  been  the  part  played  by 
sympathy  and  helpfulness  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  and  how 
inadequate  would  be  any  interpretation  of  natural  selection  which 
accounted  for  it  wholly  in  terms  of  superior  strength,  cruelty  and 
cunning. 

Mr.  Darwin  never  claimed  to  offer  an  adequate  explanation  of 
the  variations  which  natural  selection  preserves  or  rejects.  He 
sometimes  took  them  for  granted,  he  sometimes  spoke  of  them  as 
accidental  or  fortuitous.1  He  would  have  been  the  last  to  pretend 

*It  was  left  for  the  post-Darwinians,  and  in  particular  DeVries,  to 
demonstrate  the  distinction  between  "mutations"  (variations  large  or 
small  that  are  inherited)  and  "fluctuations"  (variations  large  or  small  that 
are  not  inherited)  and  to  apprehend  its  significance.  The  fact  of  mu- 
tation (often  large  and  conspicuous)  ;  the  law  of  heredity  discovered 
by  Mendel;  the  continuity  of  germ  plasm  discontinuous  with  somatic 
cells  and  the  fact  that  traits  acquired  by  an  individual  after  birth  do  not 
descend  in  heredity,  established  by  Weismann;  have  displaced  both  the 
hypothesis  of  pangenesis  and  Darwin's  view  of  the  transformation  of 
species  by  cumulative  variation ;  but  they  have  not  touched  essential 
Darwinism,  namely,  recognition  of  the  fact  and  the  function  of  selective 
death-rates  among  mutants.  There  is  no  evidence  that  Malthus  saw,  or 
if  he  saw  attached  importance  to  the  fact,  that  death-rates  are  selective. 


8        STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

that  he  had  told  us  all  that  we  should  like  to  know  about  the  be- 
ginnings of  herd  habit,  of  sympathy  or  of  sensitiveness  to  praise 
or  blame.  But,  starting  from  herd  habit,  sympathy  and  the  desire 
for  approval  as  traits  that  may  actually  be  observed,  and  that 
presumably  have  somehow  had  a  natural  origin,  Darwin  and 
Kropotkin  convincingly  demonstrate  that  groups  possessing  these 
qualities  have  a  certain  advantage  in  the  struggle  for  life. 

To  account  more  fully  for  the  origins,  in  distinction  from  the 
natural  selection  of  the  social  qualities,  was  the  problem  that  John 
Fiske  attacked  in  his  theory  of  the  effects  of  prolonged  infancy, 
first  published  in  the  North  American  Review  of  October,  I873,1 
and  a  year  later  in  the  Outlines  of  Cosmic  Philosophy.  Fiske 
discriminates  between  "gregariousness"  and  "sociality,"  without, 
however,  sufficiently  analyzing  the  one  or  the  other,  or  quite  de- 
fining the  difference.2  By  sociality  he  seems  to  mean  a  relatively 
high  development  of  sympathy,  affection  and  loyalty  to  kindred 
or  comrades.  He  argues  that  sociality  has  its  origin  in  small  and 
permanent  family  groups.  These  are  not  necessarily  monogamous 
at  first.  They  may  be  polygamous  or  polyandrian,  and  may 
broaden  out  into  clans.  But  they  must  be  more  enduring  than 
matings  observed  in  the  merely  gregarious  herd.  The  cause  of 
both  definiteness  and  permanence  he  finds  in  the  prolongation  of 
infancy,  necessitating  a  relatively  long-continued  parental  care 
of  offspring.  The  relations  so  established  among  near  kindred 
have  conserved  and  strengthened  the  feelings  of  affection  and  the 
sense  of  solidarity.  Mr.  Darwin  recognized  Mr.  Fiske's  theory 
as  an  important  contribution  to  the  subject.  It  must  be  said  in 
criticism,  however,  that  Mr.  Fiske  did  not  see  all  the  implications 
of  prolonged  infancy,  or  develop  his  theory  into  all  its  possibilities. 
Admitting  that  the  prolongation  of  infancy  was  probably  a  factor 
in  the  evolution  of  stable  family  relationships,  and  therefore 
played  a  part  in  strengthening  the  social  sentiments,  we  must  re- 
member that  the  collective  life  and  solidarity  of  the  gregarious 
group  was  probably  a  chief  cause  of  the  prolongation  of  infancy 
itself.  Demanding,  as  it  did,  relatively  complex  habits  and  ad- 

1  Under  the  title:  The  Progress  from  Brute  to  Man. 
'Nevertheless,  the  discrimination  is  one  of  the  most  significant  that 
had  so  far  been  made  in  sociology. 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  HUMAN  EXISTENCE  9 

justments,  it  operated  to  select  for  survival  those  individuals  that 
varied  in  the  direction  of  high  brain  power  and  its  correlated  long 
infancy.  But  this  is  to  say  that  the  collective  struggle  for  exis- 
tence was  a  factor  in  the  evolution  of  man  before  man  became  a 
factor  in  the  evolution  of  society,  and  the  fact  is  important. 

Moreover,  Mr.  Fiske's  theory  no  more  explained  the  actual 
origins  of  sympathy  and  cooperation  than  Bagehot's  and  Dar- 
win's theories  had  done.  Neither,  for  that  matter,  did  Suther- 
land's account  of  The  Origin  and  Growth  of  the  Moral  In- 
stinct? although  Sutherland  got  somewhat  further  back  when  he 
called  attention  to  the  reaction  of  parental  care  of  offspring  upon 
the  evolution  of  ganglia  making  up  the  sympathetic  nervous 
system. 

At  this  stage  the  Darwinian  interpretation  of  social  origins  had 
arrived  when,  in  1894,  there  was  published  a  work  which  had  an 
almost  sensational  reception.  Hailed  as  a  new  gospel  by  minds 
desiring  above  all  things  to  find  some  solid  ground  for  religious 
convictions  that  had  seemingly  suffered  violence  in  the  course  of 
evolutionist  warfare,  this  book  was  treated  by  scientific  critics 
with  scant  respect.  The  critics,  I  venture  to  think,  were  in  error. 
For,  in  fact,  the  Social  Evolution  of  Benjamin  Kidd  raised  a 
profoundly  important  question,  and  gave  an  answer  to  it  which, 
while  half  wrong,  was  probably  half  right,  and  the  half  that  was 
right  was  a  real  and  important  contribution  to  knowledge.  Stated 
in  the  fewest  possible  words,  Mr.  Kidd's  query  was  this : 

Since  natural  selection  saves  the  few  and  kills  the  many,  why 
does  not  the  great  majority  of  mankind  try  to  curb  competition 
and  put  an  end  to  progress  ?  Thus  presented,  Mr.  Kidd's  question 
is  the  radical  and  fearless  form  of  a  question  which  socialism  asks 
in  a  form  that,  by  comparison,  is  conservative  and  half-hearted. 
And  Mr.  Kidd's  answer,  not  so  much  as  tainted  with  socialism, 
is  as  fearless  as  his  question.  Progress  has  no  rational  sanction. 
It  is  irrational  and,  from  the  standpoint  of  reason,  absurd.  Man 
goes  on  multiplying,  competing,  fighting  and  making  progress  be- 
cause he  is  not  rational  and  has  no  desire  to  be.  He  lives  not  by 

1  Published  in  1898,  a  worthy  product  of  Australian  scholarship,  which 
its  author  described  as  largely  a  detailed  expansion  of  the  fourth  and 
fifth  chapters  of  The  Descent  of  Man. 


io      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

reason,  but  by  faith.  He  crucifies  and  kills  himself  to  improve 
the  race,  not  because  he  is  scientific,  but  because  he  is  religious. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  Mr.  Kidd's  thesis  was  paradoxical,  that 
theologians  found  something  tangible  in  it  while  scientific  men 
did  not.  It  should  be  possible  now  to  look  back  upon  it  without 
prejudice.  On  the  face  of  it,  it  is  an  obvious  fallacy,  but  back  of 
fallacy  lies  a  truth. 

The  fallacy  consists  in  an  unwarranted  assumption  that  indi- 
viduals and  families  marked  for  extermination  in  the  struggle  for 
existence  are,  in  their  own  lifetime,  aware  of  their  impending 
doom.  Let  us  suppose  that,  of  one  hundred  families  now  flourish- 
ing, ninety  will  become  extinct  in  the  tenth  generation,  their 
places  being  filled  by  a  corresponding  number  of  new  families 
branching  from  the  one  successful  line.  This  would  be  natural 
selection  at  a  rapid  rate.  Yet  to  maintain  this  rate,  only  ten  fam- 
ilies have  to  drop  out  in  any  one  generation,  and  ten  new  ones 
to  appear.  This  means  that,  at  any  given  time,  a  ninety  per  cent, 
majority  of  all  persons  at  the  moment  living  have  an  expectation 
of  further  life,  the  termination  of  which  cannot  be  foreseen.  The 
large  majority,  therefore,  at  any  given  time  existing  think  of 
themselves  not  as  the  unfit  that  must  perish,  but  rather  as  the 
fit  selected  to  survive. 

This  way  of  stating  the  problem,  however,  brings  us  face  to 
face  with  a  peculiarly  interesting  truth,  for  the  apprehension  of 
which  we  rightly  may  give  generous  credit  to  Mr.  Kidd.  Ob- 
viously, while  no  family  stock  or  race  at  any  time  existing  can 
certainly  know,  or,  while  it  remains  still  vigorous,  find  sufficient 
ground  to  believe  that  it  is  doomed  to  perish,  neither  can  it  cer- 
tainly know  that  it  is  indefinitely  to  survive.  It  struggles  instinc- 
tively and  it  achieves  not  altogether  by  knowledge  or  by  reason, 
but  also  in  part  by  faith.  It  impulsively  goes  forward  and  it 
hopes,  it  expects  to  endure.  It  believes  in  its  future. 

Therefore  the  ongoing  drive  by  which  a  race,  a  family,  or  an 
individual  lives,  is  not  anti-rational,  nor  yet  super- rational.  It  is 
rather  sub-rational  or  proto-rational.  It  is  deeper  and  more  ele- 
mental than  reason.  It  is  the  will  to  "carry  on"  sustained  by 
faith  in  the  possibilities  of  life.  The  question,  therefore,  which 
Mr.  Kidd  should  have  asked,  and  which  we,  reviewing  his  work, 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  HUMAN  EXISTENCE          n 

must  ask  in  his  stead,  is  this :  May  we  identify  our  ongoing  will 
with  what  men  in  all  lands  and  times  have  called  "the  soul,"  and 
merge  our  elemental  faith  in  the  possibilities  of  life  in  the  tre- 
mendous social  phenomenon  of  religion,  which,  in  all  the  ages  of 
man's  progress,  has  been  one  of  his  supreme  interests  ?  Shall  we 
perhaps  find  that,  when  reduced  to  its  lowest  terms,  to  its  essential 
principle,  religion  is  not,  as  has  been  supposed,  so  much  a  belief 
in  gods,  or  in  a  supernatural,  in  any  way  conceived,  as  an  endeavor 
to  sustain  and  "save"  the  soul  (i.  e.  to  fortify  the  ongoing  will) 
and  to  nourish  that  primordial  faith  in  the  possibilities  of  life 
which  was  born,  and  generation  after  generation  is  re-born,  of 
success  in  the  struggle  for  existence;  which  may  gather  about 
itself  all  manner  of  supplementary  beliefs,  including  a  belief  in 
spirits  and  in  gods,  but  which  will  persist  after  science  has 
stripped  away  from  it  all  its  mystical  and  theological  accretions  ? 
If  we  may  and  should,  we  can  accept  as  a  positive  contribution  to 
the  theory  of  human  behavior  Mr.  Kidd's  proposition  that  relig- 
ion, a  thing  deeper  and  more  elemental  than  reason,  has  been  a 
chief  factor  in  social  evolution. 

The  mention  of  socialism,  when  referring  to  the  theories  of 
Benjamin  Kidd,  may  serve  to  remind  us  of  two  further  contribu- 
tions to  the  Darwinian  theory  of  society  still  to  be  mentioned. 
William  Hurrell  Mallock's  American  lectures  on  socialism,1  did 
not  enhance  his  reputation  as  a  competent  student  of  social  phe- 
nomena. Before  passing  judgment,  however,  one  should  examine 
Mr.  Mallock's  Aristocracy  and  Evolution,  a  suggestive  and 
really  important  work,  published  in  1898.  In  this  book  Mr.  Mai- 
lock  rises  above  his  habit  of  literary  trifling,  and  digs  somewhat 
below  his  prejudices,  to  examine  not  only  fairly,  but  also  cogently, 
and  with  illumination,  the  phenomenon  of  personal  ability  as  a 
factor  of  social  achievement.  Distinguishing  between  a  struggle 
for  existence  merely,  and  a  struggle  for  domination,  he  contends 
that  progress  in  any  legitimate  sense  of  the  word  is  attributable 
to  the  struggle  for  domination.  No  one,  I  think,  can  go  far  in 
sociological  study  without  seeing  that  this  is  a  significant  distinc- 
tion for  purposes  of  historical  interpretation. 

'Delivered  in  1906;  published  1907  as  A  Critical  Examination  of 
Socialism, 


12      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

One  need  not,  however,  draw  the  conclusion  that  democracy  is 
necessarily  antagonistic  to  progress,  as  Mr.  Mallock  does.  He 
says: 

The  human  race  progresses  because  and  when  the  strongest  human 
powers  and  the  highest  human  faculties  lead  it ;  such  powers  and  faculties 
are  embodied  in  and  monopolized  by  a  minority  of  exceptional  men ;  these 
men  enable  the  majority  to  progress,  only  on  condition  that  the  majority 
submit  themselves  to  their  control.1 

No  student  of  social  evolution  would  be  less  likely  to  dispute 
these  propositions  than  Francis  Galton  would  be  if  he  were  now 
living.  In  his  studies  of  natural  inheritance  and  hereditary  genius, 
Galton  did  more  than  any  investigator  before  him  to  establish 
them  on  a  broad  inductive  basis.  Since  Galton,  no  investigator 
has  made  more  valuable  studies  in  this  field  than  Karl  Pearson, 
and  no  one  more  unreservedly  than  he  accepts  the  conclusion  that 
superiority  is  necessary  to  social  advance  and  that  personal  superi- 
ority is  a  fact  of  heredity.  Yet  Mr.  Pearson  contends  that  to  add 
artificial  advantage  to  natural  superiority  is  fatal,  because  su- 
periority cannot  be  maintained  unless  the  herd,  as  well  as  the 
superior  individual,  is  carefully  looked  after  and  improved.  The 
superiority  that  achieves  leadership  and  domination  is  usually  the 
power  to  do  some  particular  thing  exceptionally  well.  It  is  ex- 
treme individuation,  and  it  often  is  purchased  at  the  cost  of  race 
vitality.  It  is  as  necessary  to  maintain  the  one  as  to  develop  the 
other.  Mr.  Pearson  therefore  finds  the  socialistic  program  not 
incompatible  with  continuing  progress  by  selection  and  inheri- 
tance.2 

"To  'wage  war  against  natural  inequality'  is  clearly  a  reductio  ad 
absurdum  of  the  socialistic  doctrine.  So  far  as  I  understand  the  views 
of  the  more  active  socialists  of  to-day,  they  fully  recognize  that  the 
better  posts,  the  more  lucrative  and  comfortable  berths,  must  always  go 
to  the  more  efficient  and  more  productive  workers,  and  that  it  is  for 
the  welfare  of  society  that  it  should  be  so.  Socialists,  however,  propose 
to  limit  within  healthy  bounds  the  rewards  of  natural  superiority  and 
the  advantages  of  artificial  inequality.  The  victory  of  the  more  capable, 
or  the  more  fortunate,  must  not  involve  such  a  defeat  of  the  less  capable, 

1  Aristocracy  and  Evolution,  p.  379. 

'The  Chances  of  Death,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  112,  113.  Rejecting  socialism 
myself  and  defending  a  creed  of  socialized  individualism,  I  have  thought 
it  worth  while  to  quote  the  exact  words  in  which  Mr.  Pearson  summarized 
his  argument. 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  HUMAN  EXISTENCE          13 

or  the  less  fortunate,  that  social  stability  is  endangered  by  the  misery 
produced.  At  the  present  time  a  failure  of  the  harvest  in  Russia  and 
America  simultaneously,  or  a  war  with  a  first-class  European  power, 
would  probably  break  up  our  social  system  altogether.  We  should  be 
crushed  in  the  extra-group  struggle  for  existence,  because  we  have  given 
too  much  play  to  intra-group  competition,  because  we  have  proceeded  on 
the  assumption  that  it  is  better  to  have  a  few  prize  cattle  among  in- 
numerable lean  kine  than  a  decently-bred  and  properly-fed  herd  with  no 
expectations  at  Smithfield." 

From  this  too  brief  account  of  the  applications  thus  far  made 
of  Darwinian  theory  to  the  problems  presented  by  social  relation- 
ships, including  human  institutions,  we  may  turn  to  the  question  of 
further  scientific  possibilities  in  this  direction.  It  will  have  been 
noted  that  the  theories  reviewed  are  not  as  they  now  stand  entirely 
consistent  with  one  another,  and  that  none  of  them  carries  ex- 
planation back  to  the  actual  beginnings  and  causes  of  group  for- 
mation. Perhaps  if  we  could  more  adequately  account,  in  terms 
of  the  struggle  for  existence,  for  actual  social  origins,  and  for 
successive  stages  of  social  evolution,  the  various  fragments  of 
theory  which  we  now  possess  would  fall  into  orderly  correlation. 

Possibly  also  the  most  promising  starting  point  for  any  new 
attempt  to  achieve  these  ends  may  be  found  in  a  careful  scrutiny 
of  what  is  involved  in  the  struggle  for  existence  itself.  Close 
readers  of  The  Origin  of  Species  know  that  although  Mr.  Dar- 
win, when  employing  the  phrase  "a  struggle  for  existence,"  usu- 
ally meant  by  it  a  struggle  for  subsistence,  he  uses  it  also  to  mean 
a  struggle  with  the  physical  conditions  of  life,  to  which  an  or- 
ganism that  would  survive  must  be  or  must  become  adapted. 
"Two  canine  animals  in  a  time  of  dearth,"  he  remarks,  "may  truly 
be  said  to  struggle  with  each  other  which  shall  get  food  and  live. 
But  a  plant  on  the  edge  of  a  desert  is  said  to  struggle  for  life 
against  the  drought,  though  more  properly  it  should  be  said  to 
be  dependent  on  the  moisture." *  Also,  "climate  plays  an  impor- 
tant part  in  determining  the  average  numbers  of  a  species,  and 
periodical  seasons  of  extreme  cold  or  drought  seem  to  be  the  most 
effective  of  all  checks." 2  Yet  further,  "when  we  reach  the  Arctic 
regions,  or  snow  capped  summits,  or  absolute  deserts,  the  struggle 

1  The  Origin  of  Species,  p.  78. 
»</.,  p.  84. 


14      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

for  life  is  almost  exclusively  with  the  elements."  *  Again,  Mr. 
Darwin  often  means,  not  a  struggle  for  food  or  against  the  ele- 
ments, but  a  struggle  to  avoid  being  converted  into  food.  "Very 
frequently,"  he  writes,  "it  is  not  the  obtaining  of  food,  but  the 
serving  as  prey  to  other  animals,  which  determines  the  average 
numbers  of  a  species."  2  And  some  of  his  most  fascinating  pages 
deal  with  the  variations,  such  as  protective  markings,  colorings 
and  habits,  which  are  helpful  in  the  mere  struggle  for  safety. 
Once  more,  in  those  paragraphs  in  The  Descent  of  Man  already 
referred  to,  in  which  Mr.  Darwin  recognizes  the  utility  of  group 
solidarity,  he,  by  implication,  takes  account  of  a  struggle  on  the 
part  of  associating  individuals  to  adjust  their  interests  and  their 
activities  to  one  another  in  such  wise  that  group  life  may  be 
maintained. 

If,  then,  it  is  legitimate  to  use  the  term,  "struggle  for  existence," 
"in  a  large  and  metaphorical  sense,"  as  Mr.  Darwin  says  his  prac- 
tice is,3  the  struggle  itself  obviously  consists  of  four  distinct  and 
specific  struggles,  namely:  (i)  the  struggle  to  react,  to  endure 
heat  and  cold  and  storm,  to  draw  the  next  breath,  to  crawl  the 
next  yard,  to  hold  out  against  fatigue  and  despair,  to  explore  and 
analyze  the  situation;  (2)  the  struggle  for  subsistence  wherewith 
to  repair  the  waste  of  reaction;  (3)  the  struggle  for  adaptation 
by  every  organism  to  the  objective  conditions  of  its  life,  and,  (4) 
the  struggle  for  adjustment,  by  group-living  individuals  to  one 
another. 

And  this  large  use  of  the  term  is  legitimate  in  fact.  Mr.  Dar- 
win's only  mistake  was  in  calling  it  "metaphorical."  For,  as  Karl 
Pearson  has  pointed  out,  "the  true  measure  of  natural  selection 
is  a  selective  death  rate,"  4  and  any  circumstance,  whether  it  be 
danger,  or  scarcity  of  food,  or  non-adaptation  to  physical  condi- 
tions, or  mal-adjustment  of  associating  individuals  to  one  an- 
other, which  affects  the  selective  death  rate,  is  a  factor  in  the 
struggle  for  existence. 

If  so  much  be  granted,  a  number  of  difficult  questions  get  a  real 

1  The  Origin  of  Species,  p.  85. 
'Ibid.,  p.  84. 
'Ibid.,  p.  78. 

*  Essay  on  "Reproductive  Selection"  in  The  Chances  of  Death  and 
Other  Studies  in  Evolution,  Vol.  I,  p.  63. 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  HUMAN  EXISTENCE          15 

illumination.  What  are  the  true  relations  of  religious,  aesthetic, 
intellectual,  economic,  ethical  and  social  phenomena  to  one  an- 
other, and  to  life  in  its  wide  inclusiveness  ?  What,  especially,  is 
the  precise  point  of  departure  of  social  evolution  from  all  that 
precedes  it  and  prepares  for  it?  And  what  is  the  precise  dis- 
crimination needful  of  things  social  from  things  merely  organic 
or  psychological  ?  The  modes  and  the  phases  of  the  struggle  for 
existence  suggest  intelligible  answers. 

The  struggle  to  endure  and,  withstanding  fatigue,  to  go  on,  to 
keep  up  courage  and  to  maintain  faith,  develops  into  religion. 
It  avails,  however,  only  if  sensitiveness  to  situation  warns  of 
danger,  and  reaction  to  peril  achieves  safety.  Sensitiveness  to 
electrical  and  chemical  conditions,  to  temperature,  pressure  and 
sound,  to  light  and  shade,  to  color  and  form  (in  all  their  objective 
degrees  and  proportions,  dissonances  and  harmonies)  and  alert 
reaction  to  them,  are  the  beginnings  of  aesthetic  interest  and  dis- 
crimination, which,  therefore,  it  seems,  are  vital  concerns;  not 
triflings  with  life,  as  stupid  people  assume.  They  are  the  un- 
wearying guardians  of  immediate  safety.  For  assurance  of 
safety  or  continuing  security,  yet  other  reactions  are  necessary. 
There  must  be  an  exploration  of  each  situation  and  an  analysis 
of  it.  This  is  an  intellectual  business,  an  affair  of  ideas  and  of 
thought  processes,  for  which  only  man  is  competent.  His  attempt 
to  develop  it  is  his  scientific  life. 

Religion,  then,  the  aesthetic  life  and  the  scientific  life,  are  initial 
products  of  the  struggle  to  react,  to  hold  out  and  to  go  on. 

The  struggle  for  subsistence  initiates  and  broadens  into  the 
economic  life.  The  struggle  for  adaptation  becomes  the  ethical 
life.  For  adaptation,  in  its  beginnings  a  mere  taking  on  or  per- 
fecting of  useful  characters,  develops,  in  time,  into  self-control, 
self-direction  and  self-shaping. 

Between  adaptation  and  adjustment,  no  distinction  whatever 
has  been  made  by  a  majority  of  evolutionist  writers.  Spencer 
uses  the  word  "adjustment"  to  include  all  that  biologists  and 
psychologists  commonly  mean  by  adaptation.  Yet  the  two  things 
are  not  at  all  the  same.  The  struggles  which  they  involve  are  not 
identical  struggles,  and,  for  the  purposes  of  sociological  theory, 
the  distinction  is  of  fundamental  importance. 


1 6      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

Adaptation — which,  as  it  goes  on,  widens  into  and  includes  the 
ethical  life,  at  first  is  a  mere  conforming  of  the  organism  through 
variation,  selection  and  inheritance,  to  the  physical  conditions 
under  which  it  happens  to  live ;  that  is  to  say,  to  altitude,  tempera- 
ture, light  or  darkness,  dryness  or  moisture,  enemies,  food  supply, 
and  so  on.  Through  adaptation,  and  because  non-adaptation 
means  extinction,  the  individuals  of  any  given  species  congregated 
and  dwelling  in  any  given  region  where  adequate  food  supplies 
are  found  become  increasingly  alike,  and  the  first  two  conditions 
of  social  life,  as  Mr.  Bagehot  rightly  explained  it,  namely,  group- 
ing and  substantial  resemblance,  are  provided.  But,  since  they  are 
alike,  individuals  of  the  same  variety  or  race,  so  brought  together 
in  one  habitat,  necessarily  want  the  same  things,  and,  as  often  as 
not,  try  in  like  ways  to  get  them,  reacting  in  one  manner  to  any 
stimulus  that  incites  all  of  them,  or  to  a  common  situation.  They 
compete  in  obtaining  things  which  each  is  able  to  get  by  his  own 
efforts,  or  (unconsciously  or  consciously)  they  combine  their 
efforts  to  obtain  things  that  no  one  could  get  unaided.  In  either 
case  their  interests  and  activities  are  not  altogether  harmonious 
and  easily  become  antagonistic.  Competition  tends  to  engender 
conflicts  inimical  to  group  cohesion;  but  in  aggregations  of  ani- 
mals or  of  human  beings,  in  which  individuals  generally  are  sub- 
stantially similar  in  behavior  and  approximately  equal  in  strength, 
conflicts  are  self-limiting  in  a  degree.  An  equilibrium  of  "live  and 
let  live"  is  arrived  at,  which  makes  gregarious  life  possible  for 
animals  and  conscious  association  possible  for  human  beings.  In 
human  communities  the  let  live  habit  of  noninterference  becomes 
a  conscious  toleration,  in  which  adaptation  passes  into  adjust- 
ment, a  reciprocal  adaptation.  It  is  a  precarious  adjustment  at 
first,  because  rivalries  continue  and  conflicts  recur.  When,  how- 
ever, these  provoke  collective  (i.  e.  group)  reactions  in  defense 
of  the  let  live  status,  the  struggle  then  begun  is  a  struggle  to 
maintain  adjustment  and  to  improve  it.  On  its  success  group 
cohesion  depends,  and  on  group  cohesion  social  evolution  depends. 

Or,  to  put  the  matter  now  in  slightly  different  words,  while  the 
struggle  to  react  with  ongoing  will  and  discriminating  intelli- 
gence becomes  differentiated  into  religious,  aesthetic  and  scientific 
activities;  and  while  the  struggle  for  subsistence  becomes  the 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  HUMAN  EXISTENCE  17 

economic  life,  and  the  struggle  for  adaptation  broadens  into  the 
ethical  life,  the  struggle  of  resembling  creatures  to  adjust  them- 
selves (together  with  their  competitions  and  their  adaptations)  to 
one  another,  is  the  beginning  and  the  continuing  process  of  group 
cohesion,  the  precedent  condition  of  human  society  and  all  that  it 
signifies. 

Through  success  in  all  of  these  struggles,  and  not  in  one  or  an- 
other of  them  only,  there  results  a  survival  of  the  fit,  namely, 
organisms  that  are  so  equipped  with  proper  parts  and  habits  that 
on  the  whole  they  fit  into  and  conform  to  the  essential  conditions 
of  life  incident  to  the  environment  in  which  they  are  forced  or 
elect  to  dwell. 

Only  a  few  of  the  countless  billions  of  the  fit  are  human,  and 
human  beings  are  not  in  all  cases  the  fit.  There  are  regions  and 
circumstances  in  which  man  is  unfit  to  live,  and  doesn't. 

Human  qualities  have  been  winnowed  and  selected  in  a  differ- 
ential struggle,  projected  from  and  beyond  the  general  struggle 
for  existence.  They  are  products  of  a  highly  definite  and  intense 
struggle  for  human  existence. 

This  struggle  has  been  not  only  a  collective  effort,  as  the  life 
struggle  of  all  gregarious  creatures  is,  but  also  a  social  struggle — 
another  phenomenon  altogether. 

Pluralistically  responding  (i.  e.  in  plural  numbers  reacting)  to 
common  stimulation,  communicating  and  associating,  acting  upon 
one  another  by  suggestion  and  example,  and  imitating  one  an- 
other in  a  thousand  ways,  individuals  generate  similar  feelings  and 
develop  closely  resembling  ideas.  Among  them  are  feelings  and 
ideas  of  liking  and  disliking,  of  trust  and  distrust,  of  approval 
and  disapproval.  These  are  social  feelings  and  ideas,  a  human 
equipment  not  found  full  grown,  if  indeed  in  rudimentary  begin- 
nings, in  the  animal  mind.  Also  an  awareness  of  similarities  of 
behavior  and  of  character  (and  of  conflicting  dissimilarities)  be- 
comes a  consciousness  of  kind,  or  type.  Social  feelings  and  ideas, 
(emotions  and  thoughts)  and  the  consciousness  of  kind  fuse  in  a 
conscious  social  sentiment,  a  state  of  the  human  mind,  to  which 
gregarious  instinct  (if  there  is  a  gregarious  instinct)  is  but  a 
small  contribution.  Social  sentiment  converts  herd  habits  into 
those  common  and  usual  but  not  invariable  ways  of  doing  things, 


i8      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

those  norms  and  elements  of  human  custom,  which  Professor 
Sumner  has  named  the  folkways. 

Folkways  and  mores  constrain  the  individual  and  become  that 
"most  terrible  of  all  tyrannies  known  to  man"  of  which  Mr. 
Bagehot  wrote.  But  it  is  a  tyranny,  as  Bagehot  demonstrated, 
that  perfects  the  group  in  cohesion  and  in  unity  of  purpose.  Con- 
scious, then,  of  the  usefulness  of  solidarity,  the  group  endeavors 
by  definite  policies  to  limit  variation  from  type.  Society  thereby 
becomes  a  type-conforming  group  of  associates,  endeavoring,  by 
self -instituted  discipline  to  maintain  as  a  type  its  distinctive  char- 
acteristics. Chief  of  selected  and  perpetuated  traits  are  the  dif- 
ferential human  reactions;  conscious  toleration,  conscious  sym- 
pathy, and  an  intellectualized  understanding. 

In  the  three  next  following  chapters  fundamental  conditions 
and  elemental  processes  of  the  struggle  for  human  existence  are 
examined  in  further  detail.  The  historic  process  as  a  whole  is 
then  viewed  comprehensively,  and  afterwards  an  attempt  is  made 
to  discover  and  to  connect  the  historical  factors  of  social  theory. 
The  chapters  of  the  second  part  of  the  volume  are  analytical 
studies  of  determinative  factors  and  controlling  processes  in 
human  society.  In  the  third  part  an  attempt  is  made  to  exhibit 
their  genetic  and  functional  synthesis. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   SIGNIFICANCE  OF  CULTURE 

IT  would  help  to  clear  up  those  issues  which  have  been  brought 
forward  by  the  economic  interpretation  of  history,  if  scholars 
generally  understood  the  true  character  of  certain  human  interests 
which  we  are  in  the  habit  of  grouping  under  the  word  "culture." 
To  the  historian  who  comprehends  the  part  which  religion  and 
language,  manners  and  amusements,  art  and  literature  have  played 
in  the  drama  of  human  progress,  there  is  something  almost  per- 
verse in  the  proposition  that  all  which  has  happened  in  the  world 
can  be  explained  in  economic  terms.  .  Not  only  does  economic 
explanation  in  history  savor  of  materialism  in  that  sense  of  the 
word  which  is  ethical  rather  than  scientific,  but  it  seems  to  be 
wholly  inadequate. 

Yet  the  question  raised,  as  all  will  admit,  is  perplexing.  The 
word  "economy"  has  become  one  of  the  most  elastic  in  the  vo- 
cabulary of  science.  It  means  the  whole  system  of  industry  and 
business  whereby  a  modern  population  sustains  existence.  It 
means  the  production  and  distribution  of  wealth.  It  also  means 
the  total  phenomena  of  wants  and  satisfactions.  Whenever  the 
economist,  turned  historian,  discovers  that  he  cannot  account  for 
a  social  development  in  terms  of  property  or  of  industrial  or- 
ganization or  of  "the  iron  law,"  he  falls  back  on  the  most  abstract 
meaning  of  his  words,  and  has  no  difficulty  in  proving  that  since 
all  the  forms  of  culture  are  satisfactions  of  wants,  they  are 
economic  phenomena.  He  might  demonstrate  also  that  they  are 
cosmic  phenomena,  and  the  one  "interpretation"  would  be  as 
illuminating  as  the  other.  Admitting  that  cultural  products  are 
both  cosmic  and  economic,  our  common  sense  assures  us  that  they 
are  distinguishable  from  undifferentiated  comet  tails,  and  that  it 
would  be  interesting  to  know  wherein  their  economic  nature 
differs  from  that  of  stock  yards  and  rolling  mills.  The  crux  of 

19 


the  whole  question  is  right  here.  Are  the  facts  of  culture  eco- 
nomic in  some  precise  sense,  as  the  facts  of  industry  are?  Is 
culture  in  general  an  economy, — of  a  different  order  from  the 
economy  called  industry;  and  if  so,  which  economy  is  radical,  or 
primordial?  Is  culture  an  offshoot  of  industry,  or  has  industry 
been  evolved  from  culture ;  or  are  there  two  economies,  indepen- 
dent and  coordinate  from  the  beginning?  These  questions  can- 
not be  answered  by  scientific  intuition. 

On  the  one  hand  we  know  that  in  modern  life  churches  and 
theatres,  clubs  and  "society"  are  maintained  from  the  products 
of  iron  and  cotton  mills,  coal  mines  and  oil  wells,  wheat  fields  and 
lumber  camps.  On  the  other  hand,  we  know  that  the  Ingsevones 
and  Herminones,  whom  Tacitus  described,  had  neither  mills  nor 
mines,  nor  much  cultivated  grain,  nor  marts,  and  yet  they  had 
religion  and  a  splendid  mythology,  choral  song,  and  social  festi- 
vals. Historically,  culture  had  a  vast  development  before  industry 
got  beyond  its  rudest  beginnings.  Industry,  however,  supplies  us 
with  material  goods,  food,  clothing  and  shelter,  which  minister 
to  those  bodily  needs  that  are  older  than  the  cravings  of  the  mind. 
Moreover  savages  and  barbarians  have  had  practical  as  well  as 
ceremonial  arts.  As  a  rule  (but  not  always)  they  have  obtained 
something  to  eat  before  devoting  themselves  to  tom-toms  and 
prayer.  Altogether,  antecedent  and  consequent  in  our  investiga- 
tion seem  to  be  mixed. 

In  the  attempt  to  get  them  into  a  genetic  order  let  us  first  care- 
fully recognize  facts  that  are  beyond  argument.  It  is  by  directing 
human  labor  and  by  controlling  the  processes  of  nature  that  mod- 
ern industry  creates  vast  quantities  of  goods,  including  food  sup- 
plies in  excess  of  what  nature  offers  freely  in  unsolicited  bounty. 
In  achieving  this  end  modern  industry  is  dependent  upon  man's 
acquisitions  of  scientific  knowledge  and  technical  skill.  Knowl- 
edge and  skill  have  had  beginning  and  growth  in  man's  ceaseless 
interrogation  of  nature  through  unnumbered  generations,  and  in 
his  attempt  to  imitate  her  ways.  These  questionings  and  imita- 
tions lead  back  into  a  maze  of  religious  ceremonies  and  beliefs, 
back  through  the  world  of  ghosts  to  an  earlier  world  of  mana, 
then  further  back  to  those  earliest  forms  of  expression  and  of 
mimicry,  of  which  language  and  manners  were  born,  and  at  last  to 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  CULTURE  21 

those  primordial  reactions  of  which  adventure,  fortitude  and  faith 
were  born.  Modern  industry,  then,  presupposes  among  its  ante- 
cedents the  whole  cultural  history  of  man  considered  as  a  mental 
preparation  for  his  present  task. 

This,  however,  is  not  all.  Industry  presupposes  certain  mo- 
tives for  productive  effort,  and  these  are  more  than  pangs  of 
hunger  and  cold.  They  include  not  only  the  demand  of  the  body 
for  nourishment  and  protection,  but  also  the  demand  of  body 
and  of  mind  for  exhilarating  activity ;  for  stimulation  and  exalta- 
tion ;  for  the  pleasures  of  sight  and  of  sound,  of  imagination  and 
of  sentiment,  and  for  the  deeper  satisfactions  of  understanding. 
In  their  turn  all  these  satisfactions  are  concretely  embodied  in 
cultural  forms  handed  down  to  us  from  the  past.  On  the  side  of 
motive  also,  therefore,  modern  industry  presupposes  the  long 
historical  evolution  of  culture. 

Thus,  indirectly  at  least,  culture  has  an  economic  function.  As 
motive  and  means — a  necessary  antecedent  of  the  whole  industrial 
scheme  of  the  modern  world — it  must  be  recognized  among  eco- 
nomic causes.  Has  it,  then,  or  has  it  had  in  the  past  an  economic 
function  more  immediate,  an  economic  character  less  disguised? 
Did  it  originate  in  economic  effort?  As  a  product  of  evolution  it 
must  be  regarded  as  in  some  way  related  to  the  struggle  for  ex- 
istence. Did  it  grow  and  differentiate  because  it  contributed  in  a 
practical  way  to  life  maintenance,  or  only  because  it  happened  to 
be  correlated  with  useful  activities,  and  fortunately  added  some- 
thing to  the  variety  and  interest  of  an  existence  which  it  had  no 
power  to  sustain  ? 

The  answer  to  this  question  is  not  doubtful.  In  its  earliest 
forms  culture  is  an  economy;  a  practical,  utilitarian  thing.  Only 
in  its  late  developments  does  it  become  a  diversion.  To  the  primi- 
tive man  culture  in  general,  like  music  or  dancing  in  particular,  is 
a  serious  business. 

Bird  and  beast  subsist  on  what  they  find.  They  are  not,  how- 
ever, helpless  creatures  of  a  strictly  fatalistic  luck.  Their  reflex 
and  instinct  mechanisms  serve  them  well.  Without  comprehen- 
sion they  strive,  and  without  thought  they  discriminate.  Their 
cries  and  gestures,  by-products  of  zeal  and  alarm,  proclaim  dis- 
coveries, warn  of  dangers,  stimulate  or  depress.  Also,  through 


22       STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

beating  the  air  and  the  bush  in  a  random  trial  of  this  and  that 
which  results  now  in  failure  and  now  in  accidental  success,  they 
recondition  their  instincts.  They  learn,  and  acquire  habits.  They 
practice  cautious  approaches  and  unhesitating  avoidances.  They 
learn  concrete  good  and  evil,  what  things  and  powers  revive  and 
comfort  them,  what  hurt  and  incapacitate  them.  Out  of  ap- 
proaches and  avoidances  they  develop  play  habits  of  mimicry, 
which  like  cries  and  gestures  serve  them  by  way  of  self-stimula- 
tion and  exhilaration.  These  first  acquisitions  (not  known  by 
their  beneficiaries  to  be  such)  are  the  rudiments  of  culture. 

Primitive  man  develops  articulate  sounds  into  predicative  dis- 
course, the  indispensable  means  of  communication  in  the  higher 
forms  of  aggressive  and  defensive  cooperation.  He  develops 
address  and  reply,  approach  and  avoidance  into  manners.  Ap- 
proaches he  develops  into  contacts  and  alliances  through  which  he 
"gets  power"  (mana)  and  so  into  totemism.  Avoidances  he  de- 
velops into  taboos,  interposed  between  himself  and  evil.  Mimicry 
he  develops  into  dance  and  song,  and  for  ages  the  supreme  pur- 
pose for  which  he  cultivates  these  arts  is  to  stimulate  himself  to 
moods  of  "power"  and  then  by  stimulating  to  enchant  the  realms 
of  plant  and  animal  life.  Presently  out  of  such  enchantments  as 
are  practiced  by  the  native  Australians  whereby  those  children  of 
nature  believe  that  they  multiply  the  witchetty  grubs  on  which 
their  uncertain  life  depends,  and  such  initiation  ceremonies  as 
those  of  the  "white  clay  men"  (the  Titanes)  of  ancient  Crete,  he 
develops  drama  and  myth.  Out  of  mimicries  also  he  creates  tech- 
nical arts  of  carving  and  drawing,  of  weaving  and  building. 
Everything  that  he  does,  and  worship  above  all,  is  with  practical 
intent.  Whether  thinking  of  natural  processes  in  terms  of  im- 
personal mana  he  piles  his  altars  with  rice  or  with  maize  and 
sprinkles  them  with  water  to  bring  down  saving  rain,  or,  at  a 
later  time,  having  peopled  the  world  with  ghosts  and  then  with 
personal  gods  of  ghost  extraction  he  prays  and  propitiates,  his 
worship  is  as  purely  economic  in  motive  as  is  that  of  the  modern 
man  of  affairs  who  puts  his  contribution  into  the  plate  to  fortify 
his  credit  at  the  bank.  Casting  bread  upon  the  waters  is  an  old 
practice,  in  which  worship  and  economy  are  as  one. 

Nor  was  this  ceremonial  economy  of  primitive  man  as  ridicu- 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  CULTURE  23 

lously  idle  as  the  modern  skeptic  may  imagine.  It  did  in  fact  very 
greatly  contribute  to  economic  security.  The  effect  of  taboo  was 
to  preserve  multitudes  of  plant  and  animal  species  from  indiscrim- 
inate destruction,  and,  what  was  equally  important,  to  compel  men, 
forbidden  to  subsist  on  this  and  that,  to  seek  other  food  supplies 
and  thus  to  diversify  consumption.  The  significance  of  this  latter 
fact  will  again  be  referred  to  later  on. 

And  even  where  mere  mimicry  and  supplication  failed  to  ex- 
tort from  nature  that  which  she  yields  only  to  patient  industry 
directed  by  scientific  knowledge,  they  increased  man's  well-being 
in  another  way.  Differentiated  into  a  thousand  modes  of  pic- 
turesque and  enlivening  activity,  they  became  habits  which  man 
has  continued  to  cherish  for  the  immediate  pleasure  which  they 
afford.  They  multiplied  his  interests,  expanded  his  ideas,  dis- 
ciplined his  mind.  They  provided  immediate  satisfactions,  and 
continued  to  provide  them  for  all  those  human  needs  which  are 
not  merely  material ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  taboo  and  ceremony 
contributed  to  his  material  security. 

Whatever,  then,  culture  may  be  today,  it  has  been  in  its  time  an 
economic  system,  as  truly  as  industry  is  now.  It  was  the  economy 
of  primitive  man.  It  was  the  first  means  of  differentiating  and 
of  protecting  the  food  supply,  and  it  was  the  first  means  of  dif- 
ferentiating the  immaterial  needs,  thereby  enormously  broadening 
economic  demand,  and  strengthening  economic  motive.  Yet  it 
was  a  radically  different  economy  from  that  which  now  maintains 
the  enormous  population  of  the  world.  In  the  hope  of  discovering 
the  scientific  aspect  of  the  difference,  let  us  submit  the  bare  out- 
line of  facts,  which  has  thus  far  been  given,  to  a  more  precise 
analysis. 

In  a  following  chapter,  on  "The  Economic  Ages,"  in  which  I 
shall  pay  a  more  adequate  attention  to  the  psychological  character 
of  phenomena  that  I  am  here  but  superficially  describing,  I  shall 
suggest  reasons  for  recognizing  four  stages  of  economic  develop- 
ment, namely,  an  organic,  an  instinctive  and  habitistic,  an  appre- 
hensive, an  ascertaining.  The  economy  of  plant  life  is  organic 
only.  The  economy  of  animal  life  is  organic,  instinctive  and  habi- 
tistic. The  economy  of  human  life  is  organic,  instinctive  and 
habitistic,  apprehending  and  credulous,  and  ascertaining.  Man 


24      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

alone  systematically  attempts  to  improve  his  condition.  His  first 
experiments,  however,  directed  by  naive  conceptions  of  nature, 
are  with  the  arts  of  enchantment  and  propitiation :  his  apprehen- 
sive economy  is  ceremonial.  Not  until  late  in  his  career  does  he 
become  a  systematic  worker  and  develop  a  verifiable  business 
economy. 

The  organic,  the  instinctive  and  the  ceremonial  economies  have 
an  essential  something  in  common  which  marks  them  off  from 
modern  industry,  and  which  makes  their  phenomena  the  subject 
matter  of  one  grand  division  of  economic  science,  while  the  busi- 
ness phenomena  of  industry  belong  to  another  grand  division.  If 
this  distinction  can  be  made  clear,  the  true  significance  of  culture 
as  a  preliminary  economy,  and  the  antecedence  of  cultural  phe- 
nomena to  nearly  everything  which  we  nowadays  call  economics, 
will  be  established. 

We  must  begin  with  a  brief  reference  to  phenomena  of  wants 
and  satisfactions,  which  are  the  data  of  all  economic  theory.  The 
need  for  food  is  so  far  from  being  the  only  original  want  that  in 
fact  it  is  coordinate  with  demands  equally  imperative,  no  one  of 
which,  taken  by  itself,  is  antecedent  to  another.  Life  would 
perish  as  quickly  if  the  energies  which  are  evolved  by  the  assimila- 
tion of  food  could  not  normally  be  expended,  as  it  would  through 
starvation.  Expenditure  in  cell  division  and  reproduction  is  the 
universal  mode,  and  it  results  in  that  multiplicity  of  organisms 
which  conditions  the  life  struggle  for  each  one.  It  is  supple- 
mented in  the  animal  creation  by  motor  activities,  and  these,  in 
the  higher  species,  are  differentiated  in  endless  complications 
through  their  correlation  wittt  a  developed  nervous  system.  All 
of  these  activities  of  body  and  mind  as  they  appear  are  enlisted  in 
the  food  quest,  in  the  phenomena  of  reproduction  and  race  main- 
tenance, and,  finally,  in  determining  the  relations  of  organisms  to 
one  another.  Again,  each  mode  of  activity,  once  established, 
creates  a  continuing  demand  in  the  organism  for  the  further  en- 
joyment of  such  expenditures  of  energy.  Accustomed  to  the 
chase,  beast  or  man  suffers  miseries  if  deprived  of  freedom.  Ac- 
customed to  the  functions  of  race  maintenance,  the  organism  that 
is  deprived  of  offspring  finds  the  pleasures  of  its  own  existence 
largely  curtailed.  Long  used  to  the  presence  of  fellow  creatures 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  CULTURE  25 

and  to  activities  of  antagonism  or  of  sympathy,  the  individual  in 
isolation  begins  to  perish,  as  surely  as  if  he  were  deprived  of  food. 
Finally,  every  activity  of  the  mind  in  its  questioning  of  nature, 
and  in  its  practical  efforts  to  ameliorate  the  conditions  of  life, 
creates  a  craving  for  its  own  renewal. 

As  rapidly  as  activities  are  differentiated,  the  need  for  discharge 
of  energy  in  each  new  channel  becomes  a  demand  for  a  particular 
class  of  satisfactions,  which  must  not  be  confused  with  the  final 
satisfaction  of  actual  expenditure  any  more  than  food  is  mistaken 
for  the  pleasure  of  consuming  it.  Food  is  a  preliminary  or  me- 
diate satisfaction.  Means  are  necessary  also  to  the  end — pleas- 
urable activity.  In  general  they  may  be  described  as  stimuli. 
For  the  pleasures  of  the  chase  the  stimuli  of  forest  and  game  are 
needed.  For  the  active  pleasures  that  young  creatures  have  in 
the  antics  of  play  they  need  the  stimulus  of  one  another's  pres- 
ence. For  all  of  the  lighter  pleasures  of  intellectual  activity  we 
need  the  stimulus  of  fellow  minds.  For  a  major  part  of  our 
happiest  emotional  activity  we  need  the  stimulus  afforded  by  the 
presence  of  those  who,  through  long  association  with  us,  have 
become  objects  of  attachment.  In  highly  evolved  societies  the 
stimuli  of  intellectual  and  emotional  activity  have  become  innu- 
merable, and  to  provide  them  is  as  much  a  part  of  man's  foresight 
as  to  provide  for  the  production  of  energy  and  its  conservation 
by  food,  clothing  and  shelter. 

The. original  wants  of  an  organism,  then,  are  those  of  energy- 
supplying  substance,  and  of  stimuli  provocative  of  energy  dis- 
charge. The  wants  of  the  former  class  can  be  differentiated  to 
a  very  slight  extent  only.  Those  of  the  latter  class  can  be  varied 
indefinitely.  The  multiplication  of  wants  and  of  satisfactions  is 
mainly  a  multiplication  of  activities  and  of  stimuli. 

How  are  the  satisfactions  of  each  class  provided?  There  is  a 
large  number  of  life-sustaining  substances,  and  there  are  many 
stimuli  of  activity,  which  not  only  are  not  produced  by  industry, 
but  which  are  not  even  obtained  through  intent,  or  by  effort. 
They  are  put  in  the  way  of  the  creatures  that  enjoy  them,  and 
are  absorbed  or  reacted  upon  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  lowest 
organisms  are  wholly  dependent  upon  such  resources,  and  the 
highest,  including  human  beings,  are  still  dependent  upon  them 


26      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

largely.  Sunshine  and  air  we  accept  without  a  thought  of  what 
it  would  mean  to  have  to  get  them  by  effort.  The  infinitely 
varied  stimuli  which  create  our  pleasurable  sensations  in  the 
presence  of  nature,  and  the  ideas  of  nature  that  are  slowly  or- 
ganized in  scientific  knowledge,  are  all  a  part  of  nature's  unso- 
licited bounty.  The  economy  which  utilizes  them  is  purely  bio- 
logical and  psychological,  but  it  may  be  of  any  stage,  from  the 
merely  organic  economy  to  the  rational. 

By  the  normal  evolution  of  the  organism  further  objective  satis- 
factions, belonging  to  the  class  stimuli,  are  provided ;  in  the  lower 
forms  of  life  without  conscious  effort,  but  among  human  beings 
with  more  or  less  of  forethought,  and  at  much  cost  in  economic 
sacrifice.  These  are  offspring  and  fellow-beings,  with  all  their 
potentialities  of  sympathy  and  of  rivalry,  of  social  intercourse  and 
of  cooperation. 

A  third  mass  of  satisfactions  is  obtained  through  a  measure  of 
effort,  which,  however,  consists  simply  in  finding  and  taking  pos- 
session of  what  nature  provides.  It  is  made  up  of  those  food 
supplies  that  are  the  dependence  of  most  of  the  higher  animals 
and  of  primitive  man,  and  of  various  materials  which  both  ani- 
mals and  men  use  for  nests  or  shelter,  and  men  for  clothing. 
To  a  much  greater  extent  than  we  realize  the  human  race  still 
subsists  by  foraging  rather  than  by  producing.  We  consume 
great  quantities  of  wild  fruits  and  of  game,  of  medicinal  barks 
and  herbs,  of  furs  and  feathers  which  are  merely  gathered,  and 
are  not  increased  in  supply  by  any  process  of  breeding  or  culti- 
vating. In  a  large  measure  our  so-called  extractive  industries 
are  merely  survivals  of  a  primitive  foraging  economy.  Lumber- 
ing by  the  usual  wasteful  methods  is  a  conspicuous  example  of  it. 

There  is  a  fourth  array  of  satisfactions,  consisting  substantially 
of  stimuli  of  bodily  and  mental  activities,  intellectual  and  emo- 
tional, which  are  enjoyed  only  by  man,  and  the  origins  of  which 
we  have  been  describing.  All  have  sprung  from  instinctive  reac- 
,  tions,  mimetic  habits,  approaches  and  avoidances.  Originally  de- 
veloped with  practical  intent,  they  become  important  to  man  for 
the  sustenance  of  mind  and  soul  rather  than  of  body.  Language 
and  manners,  worship  and  amusements,  plastic  and  poetic  arts, — 
these  involve  productive  intent  and  effort,  and  in  the  beginning 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  CULTURE  27 

they  are  regarded  as  productive  means,  as  truly  as  capital  is  in 
modern  days.  Nevertheless,  they  are  in  reality  productive  of 
subjective  satisfactions,  rather  than  of  material  goods,  and  so  are 
not  properly  to  be  classed  as  agents  of  a  productive  economy. 

The  fifth  and  final  array  of  satisfactions  is  that  which  is  created 
by  modern  productive  industry.  It  comprises  the  great  bulk  of 
our  food  supplies,  and  of  our  clothing,  comforts  and  luxuries; 
and  their  creation  involves  the  production  also  of  great  quantities 
of  auxiliary  goods,  including  tools  and  machinery  and  means  of 
transportation. 

All  of  these  satisfactions  save  those  of  the  last  division  named, 
are  an  inheritance  from  an  almost  immeasurable  past.  Are  there 
any  categories  of  economic  science  which  apply  to  the  products 
of  that  "preliminary  age,"  as  Bagehot  called  it,  no  less  than 
to  the  wealth  of  our  modern  world?  The  answer  has  already 
been  given  by  implication  in  what  has  been  said  of  the  func- 
tions of  reproduction  and  of  culture  in  differentiating  both  wants 
and  their  satisfactions.  The  numerical  increase  of  a  species  raises 
the  life  of  each  individual  to  a  higher  power  by  multiplying  a 
thousand  fold  the  stimuli  of  activity.  Cultural  products  raise  it 
to  yet  higher  powers  both  by  diversifying  its  material  basis  of 
subsistence,  and  by  almost  infinitely  multiplying  its  interests. 

Now  just  to  the  extent  that  men  have  a  wide  variety  of  ma- 
terial satisfactions,  and  that  their  interests  are  multiplied  by 
innumerable  stimuli  of  activity,  they  have  a  relatively  high  stand- 
ard of  living.  That  the  standard  of  living  is  a  complex  of  cul- 
tural facts  hardly  needs  demonstration.  What  men  desire  and 
expect  in  life  is  an  epitome  of  their  race  history  in  social  inter- 
course, manners,  art,  amusements  and  religion.  Here,  then,  in 
identifying  the  preliminary  economies  with  the  evolution  of  a 
standard  of  living  we  bring  them  within  the  scope  of  familiar 
economic  concepts.  A  phenomenon  of  the  diversification  of  wants 
and  satisfactions,  the  standard  of  living  is  a  fact  not  of  produc- 
tion primarily,  but  of  consumption.  Thus  we  arrive  at  the  broad 
economic  significance  of  culture.  The  evolution  of  culture  is  the 
evolution  of  a  consumption  economy.1 

*I  take  the  phrase  from   Simon   N.  Patten,  but  he  must  not  be  held 
responsible  for  the  uses  that  I  make  of  it. 


28      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

The  classical  economists  recognized  a  department  of  their 
science  which  they  called  the  consumption  of  wealth ;  but  they 
never  knew  what  to  make  of  it.  Accepting  the  self-luminous 
proposition  that  wealth  cannot  be  consumed  until  it  is  obtained, 
they  touch  upon  consumption,  if  at  all,  at  the  end  of  their  expo- 
sition, and  only  so  far  as  to  show  how  the  consumption  of  wealth 
reacts  upon  its  increase.  This  fact  ought  to  have  disclosed  to 
them  the  causal  relation  of  consumption  to  production.  Jevons 
and  the  Austrian  writers  perceived  the  psychological  aspect  of  it, 
and  by  deriving  from  the  facts  of  consumption  the  marginal 
theory  of  utility  and  of  value,  they  restated  economic  theory. 
Marshall,  broadening  the  treatment,  identified  the  theory  of  con- 
sumption with  the  theory  of  demand,  and  placed  it  before  the 
theory  of  supply,  that  is,  of  production. 

The  whole  truth  of  the  matter,  however,  is  that  the  phenomena 
of  consumption  are  not  only  psychologically  antecedent  to  the 
phenomena  of  production,  as  motive  to  deed,  but,  as  we  have 
seen,  they  are  also  historically  antecedent.  For  ages  there  was 
consumption  before  there  was  any  production,  and  without  grasp- 
ing that  fact  man's  economic  and  social  history  is  not  to  be  under- 
stood. Like  the  lower  animals  he  depended  for  supplies  upon 
the  proffered  bounty  of  nature.  His  only  business  was  to  con- 
sume what  she  gave.  His  ideas  and  habits  of  consumption, 
therefore,  were  his  original  economy.  There  was,  in  short,  a 
consumption  economy  long  before  there  was  a  production 
economy. 

And  that  is  not  all.  When  man  became  convinced  that  he  must 
do  something  to  increase  the  supplies  that  nature  offered,  he  knew 
nothing  of  industrial  methods.  He  did  not  even  suspect  the  im- 
portance of  differentiating  his  consumption.  But  through  avoid- 
ance and  taboo,  and  by  trying  through  magical  stimulation  and 
religious  ceremony  to  wheedle  food  from  the  powers  of  earth  and 
air,  he  did  vary  his  consumption  in  fact,  and  differentiation  once 
begun  was  bound  to  continue  until  it  became  a  great  multiplication 
of  wants.  The  immediate  effect  of  differentiation  was  to  establish 
a  conservative  and  relatively  advantageous  use  of  the  environ- 
ment. Here  again  history  confirms  theory.  Economists  recognize 
the  indebtedness  of  their  science  to  Patten's  studies  of  the  relation 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  CULTURE  20 

of  a  diversified  consumption  to  marginal  utility  and  to  the  total 
supply  of  goods.  Diversified  consumption  does  not  soon  en- 
counter diminishing  returns.  It  is  the  simplest  way  to  ameliorate 
economic  conditions,  and  it  was  the  primitive  way. 

Differentiation  begins  with  the  multiplication  of  organisms  and 
the  evolution  of  their  relations  to  one  another.  It  begins,  in 
short,  in  the  needs  and  satisfactions  of  collective  life.  In  relations 
with  offspring  and  other  fellow-creatures  we  have  the  first  new 
forms  of  energy-expenditure  which  have  been  referred  to  as 
correlative  with  the  need  for  energy-supplying  substances.  In  the 
relation  of  the  individual  to  his  fellows  we  have  the  stimuli  which 
first  expand  his  consumption. 

From  pluralistic  behavior  and  relations  are  presently  developed 
the  things  of  culture ;  from  language,  manners  and  religion  to  the 
arts  of  expression  and  of  utility.  Culture  in  turn,  in  its  economic 
aspect,  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  diversification  of  con- 
sumption. It  is  the  expansion  and  perfection  of  the  consumption 
economy. 

But  we  have  not  yet  exhausted  the  possibilities,  of  the  consump- 
tion economy  so  nearly  identical  with  culture.  It  is  through  the 
diversification  of  consumption  that  man  passes  over  into  a  pro- 
duction economy,  and  it  is  in  the  standard  of  living,  created  and 
measured  by  the  diversification  of  culture,  that  we  have  the  effi- 
cient cause  of  the  modern  production  of  wealth. 

Through  using  a  large  number  of  nature's  freely  offered  goods 
in  new  and  varied  ways,  man  slowly  discerns  the  possibilities  that 
lie  in  the  cultivation  of  roots  and  grains,  the  breeding  of  animals, 
the  development  of  instinctive  arts  into  rude  manufactures,  and 
finally  exchange.  Perhaps  we  cannot  trace  all  the  steps  by  which 
magical  mummeries  became  agriculture  and  herding,  and  imita- 
tions of  natural  objects  for  purposes  of  incantation  or  enchant- 
ment became  practical  utensils  or  beautiful  adornments,  but  there 
is  no  doubt  that  for  ages  the  practical  was  not  yet  separated  from 
the  ceremonial.  And  without  attempting  to  explain  just  how 
exchange  began,  we  can  say  that  one  of  its  earliest  forms  was  a 
give  and  take  between  the  community  and  its  unseen  powers.  The 
ceremonial  rites  of  magic  and  religion  offer  services  and  gifts,  and 
man  expects  to  be  rewarded  for  them  by  a  relative  abundance. 


30      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

This  exchange  has  in  it  also  the  germ  of  the  idea  of  capital. 
Closely  connected  with  such  ceremonies  are  those  of  propitiation 
between  man  and  man,  whereby  the  various  products  found  in  the 
foraging  of  many  individuals,  families  and  hordes,  being  cere- 
monially passed  from  one  to  another,  in  the  course  of  time  are 
passed  for  the  sake  of  a  varied  consumption,  until  the  whole 
affair  becomes  a  trade,  and  exchange  is  seen  to  be  a  means  of 
producing  a  greater  sum  total  of  satisfactions. 

In  the  question  whether  the  standard  of  living  determines 
industrial  production,  or  industrial  production  determines  the 
standard  of  living,  we  come  back  to  close  quarters  with  the  whole 
issue  over  the  economic  interpretation  of  history.  If  the  stand- 
ard of  living  determines  production,  then  the  "interpretation  of 
history"  runs  back  into  that  early  economy  which  survives  as 
culture.  Men  cannot  have  more  to  eat  and  to  wear,  or  better 
houses  or  bigger  churches,  or  handsomer  theatres  and  clubs,  or 
choicer  books  and  pictures,  or  indulge  in  more  music  or  travel 
than  they  can  produce  or  find  the  means  to  pay  for ;  but  neither 
can  they  produce  given  quantities  of  these  things  unless  they  de- 
sire them  strongly  enough  to  put  forth  necessary  exertion,  to 
make  necessary  sacrifices,  to  undergo  miscellaneous  hardships, 
and  to  keep  their  minds  alert  enough  to  bring  them  all  to  comple- 
tion. In  a  word,  the  standard  of  living  is  not  the  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  what  a  population  actually  has.  It  is  literally  what  the 
word  means — the  standard,  the  ideal  of  comfort  and  luxury  which 
a  class  or  people  is  striving  to  realize ;  not  its  day-dream  of  what 
some  fairy  godmother  might  provide,  but  its  sober  estimate  of 
what  it  believes  to  be  possible,  and  is  determined  by  all  reasonable 
effort  to  try  to  secure.  So  defined  and  understood,  the  standard 
of  living  is  beyond  question  the  cause  and  not  the  effect  of  pro- 
duction. 

We  may  now  summarize  our  results  to  this  point.  The  or- 
ganic, instinctive  and  ceremonial  economies,  of  the  world  of  veg- 
etation, of  animal  life  and  of  primitive  man,  are  all  parts  of  a 
consumption  economy  which  is  antecedent  historically  as  well  as 
psychologically  to  the  production  economy  of  the  modern  world. 
The  consumption  economy  increases  well-being  not  by  producing 
goods  through  cultivation,  breeding  or  manufacture,  but  by  so 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  CULTURE  31 

diversifying  wants  and  satisfactions  that  the  adaptation  of  or- 
ganism and  environment  is  wider  in  its  basis  and  more  stable 
than  it  can  be  when  consumption  is  simple.  The  diversification 
of  wants  and  satisfactions  begins  in  the  multiplication  of  organ- 
isms through  reproduction,  and  in  the  evolution  of  pluralistic  rela- 
tions. It  is  continued  and  perfected  by  the  evolution  of  culture. 
The  consumption  economy,  by  thus  determining  habits  and  mo- 
tives, creates  the  standard  of  living,  and  the  standard  of  living  in 
turn,  when  mental  evolution  has  achieved  the  transition  to  a  pro- 
ductive economy,  determines  the  extent  of  wealth  production. 

Certain  further  facts  may  now  be  conceded,  and  we  are  then  in 
a  position  to  comprehend  the  full  economic  significance  of  culture, 
because  the  successive  steps  of  economic  causation  in  history 
will  appear  in  their  genetic  order.  Accepting  as  true  that  theory 
of  distribution  which  accounts  for  the  share  of  each  productive 
factor  by  its  marginal  productivity,  and,  in  like  manner,  for  the 
share  of  each  component  part  of  a  productive  factor, — for  ex- 
ample, a  particular  group  of  laborers, — it  is  clear  that  the  social 
distribution  of  wealth  is  determined  by  the  productive  power  of 
the  various  groups  and  classes  in  the  population.  This  produc- 
tive power  is  in  turn  determined,  so  far  as  causation  lies  in  motive, 
by  the  standard  of  living  of  the  producing  groups,  and  so  far  as 
it  lies  in  ability,  by  their  bodily  power,  moral  equipment,  mental 
discipline  and  acquisitions.  Normally  these  factors  are  corre- 
lated, and  all  in  a  large  sense  are  products  of  culture.  They  are, 
in  a  word,  the  cultural  equipment  of  the  respective  groups. 
Chiefly  important  is  the  extent  to  which  primitive  conceptions 
have  been  superseded  by  scientific  knowledge. 

The  social  distribution  of  wealth,  it  may  be  admitted,  is  a  true 
cause  of  changes  in  mores  and  in  law,  while  these  in  turn,  involv- 
ing as  they  do  conceptions  of  rights  and  liberties,  are  true  causes 
of  changes  in  political  organization  and  policy. 

Therefore,  still  more  briefly  stated,  our  conclusion  is :  A  con- 
sumption economy,  the  chief  factors  in  which  are  pluralistic  rela- 
tions and  their  great  objective  product,  culture,  creates  presently 
a  productive  economy  and  the  beginnings  of  law  and  government, 
and  it  continues  to  determine  the  scope  of  the  productive  econ- 
omy, while  the  latter,  once  in  full  operation,  determines  the 


32      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

further  evolution  of  law  and  politics.  Let  us  then  have  as  much 
economic  interpretation  of  history  as  the  facts  can  be  made  to 
yield,  provided  that  we  know  what  we  are  talking  about.  An  in- 
terpretation in  terms  of  those  ideas  and  practices  which  are  the 
subject-matter  of  economic  science,  as  the  term  is  ordinarily  un- 
derstood, will  carry  us  but  a  very  little  way.  To  get  back  to  the 
beginnings  of  the  historical  process  and  to  true  causes,  we  must 
go  deep  into  the  origins  of  the  consumption  economy  and  follow 
its  evolution  through  the  unfolding  of  culture. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  ECONOMIC  AGES 

IN  those  pleasantly  discursive  writings  which  Alfred  Russell 
Wallace  in  advancing  years  brought  together  in  the  volumes  en- 
titled Studies  Scientific  and  Social,  and  which  include,  with  dis- 
cussions geological,  biological  and  anthropological,  other  discus- 
sions that  are  economic,  political  and  educational,  the  reader  finds 
a  chapter  described  by  the  headline,  "The  Problem  of  Utility." 
Naturally,  if  he  is  familiar  with  those  developments  of  economic 
theory  which  interested  us  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  he  will  assume  that  the  great  English  evolutionist,  who 
shares  with  Darwin  the  honor  of  having  discovered  the  process  of 
organic  evolution  by  natural  selection,  found  time  to  give  atten- 
tion to  the  abstruse  problems  associated  with  the  names  of  Cour- 
not,  Menger,  Jevons,  Walras,  Von  Wieser  and  J.  B.  Clark.  Upon 
turning,  however,  from  the  table  of  contents  to  Chapter  XVIII 
itself,  one  discovers  that  it  is  further  described  by  the  question, 
"Are  Specific  Characters  always  or  generally  Useful  ?"  and  by  the 
following  quotation  from  an  article  which  Mr.  Wallace  published 
as  early  as  1867 : 

Perhaps  no  principle  has  ever  been  announced  so  fertile  in  results  as 
that  which  Mr.  Darwin  so  earnestly  impresses  upon  us,  and  which  is 
indeed  a  necessary  deduction  from  the  theory  of  natural  selection,  namely, 
that  none  of  the  definite  facts  of  organic  nature,  no  special  organ,  no 
characteristic  form  or  marking,  no  peculiarities  of  instinct  or  of  habit, 
no  relations  between  species  or  between  groups  of  species,  can  exist  but 
which  must  now  be,  or  once  have  been,  useful  to  the  individuals  or  races 
which  possess  them. 

The  principle  thus  described  Mr.  Wallace  called  "The  Principle 
of  Utility."  As  thus  employed,  the  phrase  sounded  strange  to  ears 
that  had  grown  familiar  with  such  locutions  as  "final  degree  of 
utility,"  "marginal  utility"  and  "subjective  utility."  The  late 

33 


34      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

nineteenth  century  economist  had  ceased  to  think  of  utility  apart 
from  the  psychological  facts  of  want  and  satisfaction.  Yet  none 
would  deny  that  Mr.  Wallace's  employment  of  the  word  was  an 
old  and  common  one.  Moreover,  it  would  not  be  inconsistent  with 
one  definition  given  by  Jevons — namely,  "a  circumstance  of  things 
arising  out  of  their  relation  to  man's  requirements"  1 — if  for  the 
phrase  "man's  requirements"  we  might  substitute  the  words  "the 
requirements  of  a  living  organism."  Such  a  substitution,  how- 
ever, would  distort  Jevons's  conception  and  that  of  the  whole 
school  of  writers  to  which  he  belonged.  For  Jevons  elsewhere 
says :  "Whatever  can  produce  pleasure  or  prevent  pain  may  pos- 
sess utility."  It  is  by  the  latter  definition  that  we  should  interpret 
his  phrase  "man's  requirements."  In  the  last  analysis,  according 
to  an  economic  calculus,  man's  requirements  are  the  diminution 
of  pain  and  the  increase  of  pleasure. 

Thus,  plainly  there  were  and  are  two  distinct  notions  of  utility : 
one  a  concept  of  utility  as  objective,  which  plays  a  large  part  in 
the  theory  of  biological  evolution ;  the  other  a  concept  of  utility 
as  subjective,  which  became  and  will  remain  an  important  factor 
in  economic  theory.  Utility  objective  is  a  circumstance  of  things 
arising  out  of  their  relations  to  organic  life.  It  is  a  realized 
capacity  to  maintain  life  or  to  develop  it,  and  the  life  so  served 
may  be  conscious  or  unconscious,  animal  or  only  vegetal.  Utility 
subjective  is  a  pleasure-producing  or  a  pain-preventing  circum- 
stance of  things,  itself  varying  with  a  state  of  mind — want  or 
satiety — and  consciously  known  or  recognized  as  a  cause  of 
conscious  satisfaction. 

Not  only  in  their  employment  of  this  somewhat  technical  word 
"utility"  do  the  biologists  and  the  economists  reveal  an  interesting 
divergence  of  thought,  but  also,  as  was  intimated  in  Chapter  II,  in 
their  use  of  the  words  "economy"  and  "economic,"  as  well,  they 
present  a  significant  contrast.  The  economist,  however  deeply 
tinged  his  ideas  may  be  with  the  color  of  modern  biological  knowl- 
edge, habitually  thinks  of  economy  as  a  practice  or  condition  of 
human  beings  who  have  acquired  arts,  and  who  produce  wealth — 
i.e.,  exchangeable  goods — by  means  of  industry,  well  regulated 

1  Theory  of  Political  Economy,  ch.  iii. 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  35 

by  "business  methods.''  Inherent  in  this  conception — an  almost 
essential  part  of  it — is  the  notion  that  economy  presumes  a  con- 
scious being,  endowed  with  capacity  for  pain  and  for  pleasure, 
to  plan  and  direct  the  economy  and  to  profit  by  it.  It  is  a  notion 
that,  after  all,  "economy"  is  only  a  refined  form  of  the  Greek 
"housekeeping,"  which  the  word  originally  meant. 

From  the  Greek  OIKOS,  however,  a  far  more  general  concept 
has  been  derived,  and  it  is  this  which  we  straightway  encounter 
when  we  turn  from  the  pages  of  the  economists  to  those  of  the 
biologists.  Housekeeping  is  a  system  of  activities  and  rela- 
tionships that  subserve  the  well-being  of  the  housekeepers. 
Hence  is  derived  the  highly  general  notion  of  "economy"  as 
any  system  of  activities  and  relations  which  furthers  the  well- 
being  of  any  class  or  species  of  living  things.  This  is  the 
biological  meaning  of  the  word,  and  we  have  therefore  such 
phrases  as  the  "economy  of  the  animal  kingdom,"  "the  economy 
of  the  vegetal  kingdom"  and '  even — the  most  general  concept 
of  all — "the  economy  of  nature."  In  these  notions  there  is  no 
implication  of  consciousness,  of  pleasure  or  of  pain,  and  no  pre- 
sumption of  intelligent  planning  or  management  on  the  part  of 
the  organisms  that  are  benefited  by  their  economy.  The  thought 
is  altogether  objective. 

The  bearing  of  these  reflections  upon  our  theories  of  society 
and  upon  the  cult,  (for  such  it  has  become)  of  the  economic  in- 
terpretation of  history,  was  considered  in  Chapter  II.  It  was 
there  contended  that  if  economic  phenomena  imply  conscious 
intelligence,  systematized  industry  and  "business  methods,"  even 
if  no  more  complex  than  those  of  the  ol/cos  management  of  old 
Hellas,  it  cannot  be  maintained  that  economic  phenomena  are 
antecedent  to  social  relations,  and  that  if  on  the  other  hand 
economic  phenomena  are  fundamental,  it  is  incontestable  that  the 
economic  interpreters  must  drop  the  economic  conception  of 
"economy"  and  adopt  the  biological.  In  this  contention,  as  the 
reader  was  told,  there  is  more  to  be  said. 

The  theses  which  I  now  undertake  to  prove  are :  First,  that  in 
every  stage  of  the  evolution  of  life,  from  that  of  the  lowest 
vegetal  organisms  to  that  of  the  highest  human  consciousness, 
economy  is  a  function  of  two  variables,  namely,  ( I )  the  physical 


36      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

environment,  (2)  a  plural  number  of  living  organisms  or  indi- 
viduals; second,  that  the  relation  of  these  two  variables  to  each 
other,  which  may  at  any  time  be  affected  by  changes  occurring 
in  the  physical  environment,  is  at  all  times  largely  determined 
by  the  relations  which  the  organisms  or  individuals  in  plural 
number  sustain  to  one  another;  and,  third,  that  economy,  as  thus 
determined,  is  developed  through  four  great  stages  or  ages,  which 
I  shall  call,  respectively,  the  Organic  Economy,  the  Instinctive 
Economy  (instinctive  and  habitistic),  the  Apprehensive  Economy, 
(childishly  reasoning),  and  the  Ascertaining  Economy  (scientifi- 
cally rational)  ;  and  that  for  unnumbered  generations  economy 
into  which  reasoning  enters  is  an  Apprehensive  and  Ceremonial 
Economy  (apprehending  and  credulous  yet  fearing)  before  it 
becomes  an  Ascertaining  (a  verifying)  and  Business  Economy. 
An  analytical  description  of  these  economic  ages  will  constitute 
the  sufficient  proof  of  my  three  propositions. 

We  begin,  then,  with  the  organic  economy.  This  phrase  must 
be  interpreted  as  an  abbreviation  of  a  longer  expression — namely, 
the  economy  of  living  organisms  that  are  without  psychologically 
functioning  nervous  mechanisms.  It  is  the  economy  of  the 
vegetal  kingdom,  and  of  the  animal  kingdom  in  so  far  as  nervous 
mechanisms  function  physiologically  only.  From  the  standpoint 
of  evolution  it  is  the  lowest  stage  in  the  economy  of  living 
things,  and  from  the  standpoint  of  time  it  is  the  primal  economic 
age — the  economy  that  must  have  prevailed  before  there  were 
differentiated  nerve  cells,  or  dawn  of  that  elemental  sensibility 
which  was  to  develop  into  conscious  intelligence. 

So  understood,  organic  economy  is  a  system  of  activities  and 
relations  that  subserve  the  well-being  of  merely  vegetal  organ- 
isms and  of  all  organisms  in  so  far  as  they  are  physiological  only. 
In  what,  then,  does  that  system  of  activities  and  relations  con- 
sist? The  answer  has  been  given  in  elaborate  detail  in  the 
writings  of  the  Darwinian  evolutionists.  The  activities  include 
alimentation,  the  waste  and  repair  of  tissue,  and  reproduction. 
Before  Darwin's  day  an  account  of  these  processes  would  have 
been  an  extremely  simple  affair.  Each  would  have  been  described 
in  terms  of  observations  made  upon  single  and  separate  organ- 
isms, with  but  slight  intimation  that  at  every  instant  the  physiolog- 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  37 

ical  processes  were  vitally  conditioned  by  the  relations  of  co- 
existent organisms  to  one  another.  Darwin  revolutionized  the 
description  by  showing  that  alimentation  was  conditioned  by  a 
struggle  for  existence,  and  that  metabolism  and  reproduction 
were  conditioned  by  natural  selection,  a  result  of  unequal  ali- 
mentation and  other  consequences  of  the  struggle  for  existence. 
In  short,  Darwin  and  the  Darwinians  first  gave  us  an  approxi- 
mately complete  account  of  organic  economy,  and  the  precise 
fact,  previously  ignored  or  misunderstood,  which  they  brought 
into  prominence  and  explained  the  significance  of,  was  that  of 
the  varying  relations  of  coexisting  organisms  to  one  another, 
whereby  the  whole  scheme  of  organic  economy  was,  from  point 
to  point  and  from  generation  to  generation,  determined. 

Nor  is  it  merely  the  relations  of  organisms  of  many  species 
indiscriminately  mingling  in  the  same  environment  that  thus 
determine  the  scheme  of  organic  economy.  Most  important 
of  all  relations  are  those  subsisting  among  individual  organisms 
of  the  same  species  and,  above  all,  of  the  same  subspecies  or 
variety  and  of  the  same  generation.  Between  widely  unlike 
species  there  may  be  mortal  antagonism  or  there  may  be  a 
relation  of  mutual  protection.  Precisely  the  same  is  true  of 
the  individuals  constituting  a  variety,  except  that  now  the  rela- 
tion of  mutual  protection  is  more  important  than  the  relation  of 
antagonism.  In  the  struggle  for  existence  among  the  hundreds 
of  varieties  of  plants  in  any  garden  or  field  there  is,  indeed,  a 
continual  crowding  to  the  wall  of  weakly  individuals  by  compet- 
itors of  their  own  kind;  but  in  the  long  run  it  is  whole  kinds 
that  are  crowded  out,  while  large  tracts  are  overrun  by  the 
multiplying  individuals  of  a  single  kind,  whose  very  numbers 
and  contiguity  are  their  chief  protection  against  the  encroach- 
ments of  any  other  species.  Every  individual  stem  of  lichen, 
moss  or  fern  is  protected  by  surrounding  masses  of  organisms 
like  itself;  every  blade  of  grass  or  grain,  by  thousands  of  such 
blades ;  and  every  pine  in  the  wood,  by  the  forest  of  pines  about 
it.  Thus  in  the  realm  of  merely  organic  life  we  discover  the 
economic  importance  of  a  grouping  in  one  place  of  many  indi- 
viduals of  the  same  kind.  And  this  grouping  and  mutual  pro- 
tection of  individuals  of  like  kind,  while  not  to  be  described  as 


38       STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

a  social  fact,  is  yet  a  basis  for  social  phenomena.  It  is  a  pre- 
or  subsocial  grouping,  the  beginning  of  developmental  arrange- 
ments that  may  culminate  in  social  relationships. 

How  organic  economy  shades  into  instinctive  economy  we 
very  imperfectly  know.  Manifestations  of  irritability  in  nervous 
matter  we  can  perceive.  Reflex  actions  developing  into  co- 
ordinated movements  can  be  observed.  An  instinct  is  a  combi- 
nation (or  a  complex)  of  reflex  tendencies  which  normally 
complete  themselves  in  action.  Energized  and  stimulated  it 
"goes,"  as  an  internal  combustion  engine  goes  when  it  gets  fuel 
and  the  spark.  When  instinct  has  appeared  in  the  organic  world, 
a  new  development  of  economy  has  begun.  Generations,  num- 
bered probably  by  millions,  must  live  and  die  before  it  can 
become  a  conscious  calculation  and  creation  of  utilities,  but  the 
well-being  of  the  responding  organism  is  now  furthered  by 
means  vastly  more  complex  than  those  which  suffice  for  sub- 
instinctive  life.  Movement  from  place  to  place  by  the  organism 
itself,  and  the  ability  of  the  organism  to  move  things  from 
place  to  place,  have  become  factors  of  immeasurable  importance 
in  the  economic  scheme. 

In  due  course  irritability  takes  on  sensitivity  (psychologists 
have  too  often  identified  these  two)  but  sensitivity  itself,  and  the 
process  by  which  it  develops  into  sensation,  into  pain  and  pleasure, 
and  ultimately  into  intelligence,  are  facts  which  arise  out  of  and 
disappear  into  the  unknown. 

Instinctive  action,  then,  may  be  accompanied  by  sensation,  by 
pleasure  or  pain,  by  awareness,  but  it  is  not  a  conscious  adaptation 
of  means  to  ends  in  the  sense  that  consciousness  effects  the 
adaptation.  The  delicate  work  of  the  wasps  and  bees  in  making 
their  nests,  the  complicated  labors  of  the  nest-building  fishes,  the 
weaving  and  sewing  and  clay  modelling  of  birds,  the  collective 
hunting  and  fishing  and  the  collective  defense  against  enemies 
seen  among  both  birds  and  the  gregarious  mammalia — all  these 
are  a  mechanistic  behavior,  as  truly  if  a  small  measure  of  "trial 
and  error"  enters  into  them  as  when  they  are  unvarying. 

In  short,  in  the  whole  marvelous  economy  of  the  animal  king- 
dom, from  the  protozoa  to  man,  there  is  no  certain  trace  of  what 
the  subjective  economists  could  by  any  stretch  of  meaning  call 


39 

economic.  The  welfare  of  the  organism  which  is  subserved 
by  adaptation  includes  a  subjective  element.  Pain  and  pleasure 
have  appeared,  and  the  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  tends  on  the 
whole  to  allay  pain  and  to  increase  pleasure;  but  as  yet  sub- 
jective utility — that  is,  a  circumstance  of  things  varying  with 
subjective  want  or  satiety,  and  consciously  recognized  as  the 
cause  of  an  agreeable  state  of  mind — does  not  exist.  Only  the 
elements  out  of  which  it  may  slowly  be  developed  have  come  into 
being. 

Yet,  to  an  extent  far  greater  than  in  the  sub-instinctive  or 
pre-instinctive  organic  world,  economy  has  become  a  function 
of  the  relations  of  individuals  to  one  another,  at  every  moment 
determining  the  relations  of  each  individual  to  the  purely  ma- 
terial environment.  Readers  of  Darwin,  Wallace,  Brehm,  Kro- 
potkin,  and  later  writers  too  many  to  name,  do  not  need  to  be 
told  that  every  food-getting  and  nest-building  instinct,  as  well 
as  every  protective  instinct  in  the  animal  kingdom,  has  been 
influenced  quite  as  much  by  rivalry  and  combat  as  by  quantity 
of  food,  the  nature  of  the  inhabited  earth  or  water,  or  the  cli- 
matic conditions  which  have  entered  as  factors  into  the  struggle 
for  existence.  In  a  yet  greater  degree,  perhaps,  have  all  these 
instincts  been  developed  through  the  pluralistic  like-reactions  to 
common  situations,  and  through  the  interstimulations,  of  the 
herd.  It  follows  that,  to  an  enormous  degree,  instinct  is  a 
product  of  the  closely  related  activities  of  creatures  of  the  same 
kind,  living  together  in  a  common  habitat.  Even  more  than  segre- 
gation determines  well-being  in  the  vegetal  kingdom  does  con- 
sorting determine  the  well-being  of  an  animal  species.  In  fact, 
ages  before  man  appeared  upon  the  earth,  and  ages  before  any 
creature  existed  that  could  have  entertained  the  concept  of 
subjective  utility,  economy  had  been  developed  to  the  stage  in 
which  collective  action  and  a  division  of  labor  counted  as  factors 
of  high  importance. 

When  evolutionist  doctrine  became  a  part  of  the  common  stock 
of  ideas  among  knowing  people,  economists  avowedly  or  tacitly 
assumed  that  the  economy  of  industrial  humanity  was  through 
various  stages  developed  out  of  the  instinctive  economy  of 
animals.  The  "historical  economists"  of  Germany  and  their 


40      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

American  disciples  before  1914  took  pride  in  their  reconstruction 
of  the  process.  It  seems  that  in  the  beginning  was  a  "hunting 
stage" ;  then,  in  the  course  of  ages,  appeared  the  "pastoral  stage." 
At  length,  after  more  ages,  dawned  the  "agricultural  stage,"  and 
finally,  in  the  fullness  of  time,  came  to  fruition  the  "industrial 
stage" — the  end  and  consummation  of  nature's  eons  of  travail. 
With  all  respect  to  laborious  and  learned  men,  I  must  protest 
that  this  economic  philosophy  of  history  is  inadequate.  It  fails 
to  grasp  the  actual  facts  which  have  marked  the  transition  from 
instinctive  to  rational  conduct  in  the  human  species.  Not  that 
there  is  anything  untruthful  about  it  as  far  as  it  goes.  It  is 
true  that  man  hunted  and  fished  before  he  learned  how  to  milk, 
and  that  he  probably  had  made  some  progress  in  the  dairy  busi- 
ness before  he  learned  how  to  yoke  oxen  to  the  plough,  although 
not  before  his  squaws  had  learned  how  to  tickle  the  earth  with  a 
stick.  But  it  is  also  true  that  historical  economists  too  often  had 
a  keener  sense  of  chronology  than  of  value.  Their  "historical" 
scheme  of  economic  evolution  was  as  accurate  as  the  multiplica- 
tion table;  but  it  was  one  from  which  everything  of  real  signifi- 
cance in  economic  evolution  was  as  carefully  omitted  as  lese 
majeste  from  a  chancellor's  address. 

The  real  question  for  which  we  should,  if  possible,  find  the 
answer  is  this:  How  did  the  human  mind,  slowly  developing 
from  instinct  to  reason,  successively  re-grasp  the  environment, 
successively  re-interpret  the  relations  of  cause  and  effect  and 
successively  re-attempt  to  control  the  processes  of  nature  in  the 
interest  of  human  welfare?  Primitive  man  caught  fish  and 
killed  game;  but  did  he  fish  like  Henry  Van  Dyke  or  hunt  like 
Theodore  Roosevelt?  And,  what  is  more  important,  did  he  think 
of  man's  relation  to  fish  in  the  Van  Dyke  way,  or  of  his  relation 
to  very  fierce  beasts  in  the  Roosevelt  way? 

It  so  happens  that  we  have  an  overwhelming  mass  of  evidence 
that  primitive  man  would  have  thought  it  absurd  to  the  last 
degree  to  go  "a-fishing"  with  no  better  equipment  than  a  beau- 
tiful rod,  a  neat  basket,  a  choice  assortment  of  flies,  a  dainty 
luncheon  and  a  vest-pocket  edition  of  Keats.  He  would  confi- 
dently have  lotted  on  meeting  an  ignominious  death  if  he  had 
gone  forth  to  battle  with  the  mountain  lion  with  no  better  im- 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  41 

plements  than  the  "latest  improved"  rifle,  a  bowie  knife,  a  brace 
or  two  of  pistols  and  buckskin  leggings.  The  primitive  man 
would  have  made  from  a  bit  of  wood  as  neat  a  carving  of  the 
fish  as  his  artistic  instinct  and  humble  tools  could  fashion,  and 
would  have  put  it  in  the  water  to  swim  in  the  direction  which 
the  fish  usually  followed.  Then  he  would  fervently  and  be- 
lievingly  have  prayed  to  the  fish  to  come;  and  this  would  have 
caused  them  to  arrive.  When  he  went  hunting,  he  would  first 
have  made  an  ingenious  trap;  then  he  would  have  clothed  and 
decorated  himself  in  the  best  possible  imitation  of  the  ferocious 
beast  to  be  caught.  Buckskin  leggings  might,  indeed,  have  had 
some  virtue  at  this  stage  of  the  procedure,  but  on  the  whole  the 
primitive  man  would  have  thought  them  insufficient.  Having 
completed  these  preparations,  he  would  nonchalantly  have  strolled 
into  the  woods  in  the  direction  of  the  trap  and,  quite  carefully 
failing  to  see  it,  have  very  carelessly  fallen  into  it,  crying  out 
in  alarm  that  he  was  caught.  Then,  regaining  his  composure,  he 
would  have  extricated  himself  as  best  he  could,  and  readjusted 
the  trap,  knowing  with  certainty  that  the  first  unsuspecting  beast 
that  wandered  that  way  would  be  caught  and  done  for. 

These  fables  teach  that  the  economy  of  primitive  man  is  as 
unlike  the  economy  of  his  modern  child,  even  when  the  latter  re- 
verts to  the  "hunting  stage,"  as  the  savage  theory  of  creation 
is  unlike  Darwinism.  The  primitive  man's  economy  is  no  longer 
merely  instinctive  and  habitistic.  He  has  ideas,  he  consciously 
contemplates  his  situation,  he  perceives  relations  which  the  lower 
animals  have  never  discriminated,  and  his  imagination  runs  riot 
in  explanatory  activity.  And  yet  it  never  once  occurs  to  him 
that  his  well-being  is  to  any  great  extent  within  his  own  control, 
least  of  all  that  by  systematic  labor,  directed  by  "business 
methods,"  he  could  become  master  of  his  economic  situation.  He 
is  beginning  to  be  rational,  but  he  is  not  yet  scientific.  He  views 
the  world  as  a  fearsome  aggregation  of  "creepy"  objects,  pos- 
sessed of  mysterious  and  often  amazing  powers  for  good  and  for 
evil.  His  well-being,  as  he  believes,  depends  almost  entirely  upon 
his  relation  to  those  powers. 

Instinct,  even  when  overlaid  by  habit,  is  relatively  unerring  in 
its  action.  The  instinctive  bee  does  not  experiment  with  new 


42      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

geometric  designs  in  constructing  its  cell.  The  instinctive  bird 
goes  about  its  nest-building  business  with  a  directness  that  might 
well  be  the  envy  of  the  human  architect  or  contractor.  There  is 
little  hesitation  at  any  point  in  the  instinctive  economy  of  the  ani- 
mal kingdom.  But  reason  is  never  unerring,  never  unhesitating. 
While  instinct  is  correlative  of  the  adaptation  of  an  organism  to 
those  facts  of  the  environment  which  remain  constant,  reason  is 
correlative  of  that  variation  from  old  adaptations,  which  an  or- 
ganism must  make  to  a  changing  environment  or  to  the  varying 
features  of  an  environment  in  which  some  features  remain  con- 
stant. Reason,  therefore,  always  means  choice,  and  choice  means 
some  hesitation,  some  deliberation.  Accordingly,  the  rational 
economies  of  man  (the  apprehensive  and  the  ascertaining),  un- 
like the  instinctive  economies  of  the  animal,  are  marked  by  per- 
plexity, by  doubt,  by  experimentation  and  the  slow,  painful 
process  of  discovery.  Inevitably,  therefore,  rational  economies 
develop  by  stages  which  can  be  understood  only  if  we  can  trace 
the  progress  of  man's  intellectual  development.  The  "obvious" 
stages  of  "hunting,"  "pasturage"  and  so  on  will  doubtless  still 
go  chiming  down  the  ages  in  the  Mother  Goose  philosophy  of 
history  but,  as  was  said,  they  have  no  scientific  significance.  Are 
there,  then,  any  indications,  psychological  and  historical,  whereby 
we  may  discriminate  the  ages  through  which  rational  economies 
have  been  evolving? 

Reasoning  is  a  trial  of  this  and  that  in  thought,  supplementing 
and  economizing  the  trial  of  this  and  that  ("trial  and  error")  in 
action.  Seemingly  it  begins  with  guessing,  or  conjecture.  All 
authorities  agree  that  the  transition  from  instinct  to  reason  is 
seen  in  that  warfare  of  "contrary  impulses"  which  was  so  ad- 
mirably described  by  James 1  and  in  the  "hesitation"  emphasized 
by  Marshall.2  Circumstances  having  arisen,  through  environ- 
mental change  or  otherwise,  in  which  instinct  or  habit  no  longer 
can  guide  the  organism  aright,  the  mind  begins  to  "wobble."  It 
casts  about  more  or  less  wildly  for  an  answer  to  its  questionings, 
and  that  casting  about  or  conjecturing  we  call  in  our  everyday 
speech  merely  guesswork. 

1  Psychology,  Vol.  II,  pp.  389-393- 

2  Instinct  and  Reason,  pp.  417,  et  seq. 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  43 

Now  guessing,  as  we  all  know,  is  the  prevailing  intellectual 
method  of  childhood,  when  reason  is  struggling  with  instinct 
for  supremacy.  It  is  the  confirmed  intellectual  method  of  igno- 
rant and  undeveloped  minds,  in  which  reason  is  arrested  at  the 
childhood  stage.  Guesswork,  however,  is  extraordinarily  fallible 
as  a  guide  to  action.  Sometimes  it  pierces  the  situation  by  a 
happy  intuition,  and  sometimes  it  hits  disastrously  wide  of  the 
mark.  Stumbling  along  a  miry  road  on  a  dark  night,  the  back- 
woodsman comes  to  a  swollen  stream  and  "guesses"  that  he  can 
ford  it.  Plunging  in,  he  finds  it  not  half  so  deep  or  so  violent 
as  it  looked,  and  he  emerges  on  the  other  side  complacently  glad 
that  he  isn't  the  kind  of  fellow  to  be  too  easily  scared.  This 
reflection,  however,  is  not  the  only  idea  in  his  mind  at  the 
moment.  He  is  at  the  same  time  blessing  his  "good  luck."  Had 
it  turned  out  that  the  stream  was  more  formidable  than  he  had 
guessed,  and  had  he  reached  the  farther  bank  barely  alive  and 
mourning  the  loss  of  his  outfit,  he  would  have  been  found  not 
only  chagrined  over  his  bad  guessing,  but  also  energetically  damn- 
ing his  bad  luck.  A  strong  belief  in  luck,  in  fine,  always  coexists 
with  the  guesswork  stage  of  intellectual  activity.  The  guess  hits 
or  goes  astray,  and  luck  does  the  rest. 

Thus  far  the  psychology  of  the  primitive  human  mind  as  it 
survives  among  ourselves.  How  is  it  with  the  primitive  human 
mind  as  it  survives  among  savages?  All  observers  unite  in 
testifying  that  the  lowest  savage  reasoning  is  purely  conjec- 
tural, and  that  one  of  the  strongest  beliefs  of  the  lowest  sav- 
age is  his  ineradicable  faith  in  luck.  The  element  of  industry 
enters  into  the  economic  life  of  the  savage  as  largely,  possibly, 
as  it  does  into  the  economy  of  the  lower  animals.  The  savage 
looks  for  food  and  puts  forth  effort  to  appropriate  it.  He 
sometimes  constructs  rude  weapons  and  equally  rude  tools.  He 
sometimes  builds  a  rude  shelter  and  sometimes  contrives  a  bit  of 
clothing.  Yet  in  all  this  economic  activity  he  is  disturbed  and 
made  doubtful  of  his  procedure  as  the  instinctive  animal  never  is. 
If  the  savage  gets  the  idea  into  his  head  that  luck  is  against  a 
particular  plan  of  procedure  in  his  hunting  or  fishing,  or  is 
against  a  certain  pattern  of  construction,  his  economic  activity  in 
these  directions  is  instantly  inhibited.  He  then  loafs  about  until 


44      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

guesswork  and  luck  suggest  a  new  procedure.  That  this  is  the 
true  explanation  of  the  seemingly  paradoxical  fact  that  the  prim- 
itive man,  a  little  higher  in  the  scale  of  existence  than  the  highest 
quadrumana,  is  often  less  industrious  and  much  less  systematic  in 
his  economic  activities  than  many  lower  species  are,  cannot,  I 
think,  be  questioned  by  any  investigator  familiar  with  both  the 
psychology  and  the  sociology  of  savage  groups.  The  fact  is  not, 
however,  as  paradoxical  as  it  seems.  A  luck  economy  is  the  first 
stage  of  a  rational  economy,  and  the  very  lowest  sort  of  rational 
economy  is  a  degree  advanced  beyond  the  highest  instinctive  and 
habitistic  economy.  It  is  precisely  because  the  savage  does  hesi- 
tate and  trust  to  luck  that  he  breaks  down  a  lot  of  habits  which 
would  have  been  fatal  to  progress  and,  more  or  less  by  accident, 
adopts  many  new  ways  in  which  the  potentiality  of  progress  lies. 

One  test  of  any  hypothesis  concerning  the  early  stages  of 
an  evolutionary  process  is  found  in  survivals  of  each  early  stage 
in  a  later  time.  What  was  chronologically  first  to  a  great  extent 
survives  as  the  structurally  or  functionally  low,  just  as  the  rocks 
old  in  time  are  in  position  deep  down  in  the  stratification. 

Do  we,  then,  find  in  civilization  significant  survivals  of  the  luck 
economy?  Turn  to  the  pages  of  Hesiod  and  read  over  again  the 
Works  and  Days,  but  especially  the  calendar  of  lucky  and  un- 
lucky days  at  the  end  : 

Mind  well,  too,  and  teach  thy  servants  fittingly  the  days  appointed 
of  Jove.  .  .  .  The  eleventh  and  twelfth,  both  in  truth  are  good,  the  one 
for  shearing  sheep,  the  other  for  reaping  laughing  corn :  but  the  twelfth 
is  far  better  than  the  eleventh,  for  on  it,  look  you,  the  high  hovering 
spider  spins  his  threads  in  the  long  summer  day,  when  also  the  wise 
ant  harvests  his  heap.  On  this  day,  too,  a  woman  should  set  up  her 
loom,  and  put  forth  her  work.  But  on  the  thirteenth  of  the  beginning 
of  the  month  avoid  commencing  your  sowing;  though  to  set  plants  it 
is  best.  The  sixteenth,  however,  is  very  unprofitable  to  plants.  .  .  .  Nor, 
in  truth,  is  the  first  sixth  day  suitable  for  the  birth  of  girls,  but  a  favor- 
able day  for  cutting  kids  and  flocks  of  sheep,  and  for  enclosing  a  fold 
of  sheep.  .  .  .  On  the  eighth  of  the  month  emasculate  the  boar  and  loud 
bellowing  bull,  and  on  the  twelfth  the  toil-enduring  mules.  .  .  .  On  the 
seventeenth  watch  well,  and  cast  upon  the  well-rounded  threshing  floor 
Demeter's  holy  gift;  and  let  the  woodcutter  cut  timbers  for  chamber 
furniture,  and  many  blocks  for  naval  purposes,  which  are  fit  for 
ships.  .  .  .  Now,  few,  again,  know  that  the  twenty-ninth  of  the  month 
is  best  both  for  broaching  a  cask,  and  placing  a  yoke  on  the  neck  of 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  45 

oxen  and  mules  and  fleet-footed  steeds.  ...  On  the  fourth  day  open 
your  cask.1 

Hesiod  and  the  graceless  agricultural  brother  whom  he  admon- 
ished lived  long  ago,  to  be  sure,  yet  the  practical  American  of 
the  twentieth  century  need  not  plume  himself  on  being  much 
less  a  devotee  of  luck  than  was  the  imaginative  Greek.  Give  the 
average  American  his  choice  between  making  a  certain  compe- 
tence by  diligence  and  good  judgment  or  possibly  making  a  for- 
tune by  operations  in  land  or  in  stocks,  he  will  take  the  gamble. 
Endless  protestations  by  "the  moral  element"  have  only  demon- 
strated that  the  love  of  gambling  is  one  of  the  strongest  of  human 
passions.  Guesswork  and  a  belief  in  luck,  in  fact,  run  through 
all  our  business  undertakings  and  bring  to  naught  innumerable 
promising  enterprises.  I  have  often  wished  that  an  ingenious 
statistician  would  compute  the  annual  average  loss  of  property 
and  of  life  in  the  United  States  directly  attributable  to  the  belief 
in  luck.  The  railroad  corporation  takes  its  chances  with  wornout 
rails  and  decrepit  bridges  and  pays  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
dollars  in  damages.  The  owners  of  buildings  take  their  chances 
with  "jerry"  construction  and  see  their  property  disappear  in 
collapse  or  in  smoke.  The  shipowner  takes  his  chances  with 
rotten  hulks  on  the  sea,  and  the  banker  with  rotten  securities  on 
the  street.  One  and  all,  they  are  devotees  of  luck.  Even  the 
religious  beliefs  of  this  most  secular  and  most  sceptical  of  peoples 
are  permeated  through  and  through  with  the  primitive  man's 
philosophy  of  luck.  I  remember  in  my  boyhood  hearing  old 
ladies  tell  of  finding  names  for  babies  by  opening  the  Word  of 
God  at  random. 

The  second  stage  in  the  development  of  reason,  following 
close  upon  the  guessing  or  conjectural,  is  that  of  reasoning 
from  analogy.  The  mind  begins  to  form  conclusions  by  assuming 
that  essential  resemblance,  or  identity,  goes  with  superficial  like- 
ness. Imagination  is  a  lively  coadjutor  of  reason  at  this  stage, 
and  the  reasoning  is  as  likely  to  follow  the  psychological  laws 
of  the  blending  of  mental  images  as  to  obey  any  law  of  logic. 
Yet,  even  so,  it  enormously  multiplies  the  number  of  possible 
ways  in  which  man  can  experiment  in  his  economic  life.  Imag- 

*The  translation  is  that  of  the  Bohn  Library. 


46      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

ination,  however  riotous,  corresponds  on  the  whole  a  little  better 
than  conjecture  to  objective  possibility.  In  other  words,  experi- 
ments suggested  by  imagination  and  analogy  are  likely  to  yield 
a  larger  percentage  of  successes  than  experiments  suggested  by 
mere  guesswork. 

Now  it  is  quite  in  keeping  with  the  nature  of  things  psycho- 
logical that  we  discover,  at  a  certain  stage  in  the  evolution  of 
savage  culture,  a  system  of  thought  and  practice  which  corre- 
sponds to  the  analogy-loving  stage  in  the  development  of  reason. 
It  is  known  as  magic,  and  long  was  regarded  by  ethnologists  as 
all  of  a  piece  with  ghost  worship  and  primitive  supernaturalism 
in  general.  Then  the  suggestion  was  made,  and  too  well  backed 
up  by  facts  to  be  dismissed  lightly,  that  magic,  instead  of  being 
the  beginning  of  supernaturalism,  is,  in  reality,  the  beginning 
of  naturalism,  in  a  word  of  a  natural  philosophy.  Ethnologists 
like  Spencer  and  Gillen  in  Central  Australia,  Miss  Kingsley  in 
West  Africa  and  W.  W.  Skeat  in  the  Malay  Peninsula,  unaware 
of  each  other's  researches,  almost  simultaneously  arrived  at  this 
view,  and  discussion  of  it  was  well  summed  up  by  Frazer,  in  a 
new  edition  of  The  Golden  Bough.  The  fundamental  principles 
of  magic,  according  to  Mr.  Frazer,  can  be  reduced  to  two, 
namely : 

First,  that  like  produces  like,  or  that  an  effect  resembles  its  cause; 
and  second,  that  things  which  have  once  been  in  contact  but  have  ceased 
to  be  so,  continue  to  act  on  each  other  as  if  the  contact  still  existed. 
From  the  first  of  these  principles  the  savage  infers  that  he  can  produce 
any  desired  effect  by  merely  imitating  it;  from  the  second  he  concludes 
that  he  can  influence  at  pleasure  and  at  any  distance  any  person  of 
whom,  or  anything  of  which,  he  possesses  a  particle. 

When  Mr.  Frazer  wrote  this  passage  the  lore  of  "mana"  and  its 
vocabulary  ("orenda,"  "power,"  "virtue,"  "it,"  and  so  on)  hardly 
existed  as  a  chapter  in  anthropology.  In  view  of  what  is  known 
now  it  will  not  do  to  assume  that  the  savage  attributes  mysterious 
potency  to  imitations  as  such  or  to  contacts  (past  or  present)  as 
such.  Presumably  he  looks  upon  them  all  as  means  only  for 
calling  forth  or  for  communicating  this  or  that  mana,  good  or 
evil,  inhering  in  this  or  that  concrete  thing  or  person.  I  say 
"this  or  that"  mana  because  we  may  be  sure  that  the  savage  is 
no  pantheist.  He  has  no  abstract  notion  of  a  universal  power, 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  47 

indwelling  in  everything  and  everybody.  He  knows  only  specific 
and  various  powers.  They  are  migrant,  however,  and  communi- 
cable :  they  are  contagious.  Each  mana  is  something  that  a  thing 
or  a  person  can  "catch"  or  impart  by  contact,  and  sometimes  in 
other  ways. 

These  notions  serve  the  savage  mind  in  more  ways  than  one. 
They  gather  accretions  of  analogy  and  convert  them  into  simple 
classifications.  Persons  that  have  the  same  mana  are  akin,  and 
things  that  have  the  same  mana  are  a  kind.  Conversely,  things 
and  persons  that  are  of  a  kind  or  a  kin  have  the  same  mana,  and 
so  have  things  that  are  alike.  Also  things  or  persons,  even 
things  and  persons  can  be  made  of  a  kind  or  a  kin  by  exchanging 
mana  or  by  partaking  of  the  same  mana.  This  can  be  done  by 
contact — a  laying  on  of  hands,  for  example,  or  by  eating  the 
same  food  or  drinking  the  same  drink  or  by  otherwise  sharing 
something.  Also  it  can  now  and  again  be  done  without  physical 
contact  or  any  sharing  of  material  substance.  The  savage  knows 
that  by  getting  excited  he  excites  others,  and  that  others  by 
getting  excited  excite  him.  He  knows  that  when  he  mimics 
others  are  likely  and  apt  to  mimic,  and  that  when  they  mimic  he 
yields  to  an  impulse  to  fall  into  like  mimicry.  "Power"  leaps 
through  distance,  from  one  to  another.  Often  it  goes  further, 
from  men  to  animals  and  from  animals  to  men,  a  common  excite- 
ment infecting  all.  Does  it  even  from  men  and  animals  infect 
vegetation  and  from  vegetation  infect  animals  and  men?  The 
savage  assumes  that  it  does. 

Satisfying  the  earliest  craving  for  theory  and  naively  practiced 
as  the  first  art  of  control  over  nonhuman  realms,  magic  gives 
plan  and  direction  to  the  entire  scheme  of  economy.  Examples 
of  its  application  to  fishing  and  hunting  have  already  been  given. 
Others  could  be  added  almost  without  limit.  When  an  Aleut 
has  wounded  but  not  killed  a  whale  he  separates  himself  from 
his  people  for  three  days  and,  abstaining  from  food  and  drink, 
snorts  in  imitation  of  a  dying  cetacean.  This  helps  the  whale  to 
die.1  The  Galelareese  of  Halmahera — an  island  west  of  New 
Guinea — when  going  out  shooting  are  careful  to  put  a  bullet  in 

*I.  Petroff,  Report  on  the  Population,  Industries,  and  Resources  of 
Alaska,  p.  154. 


48      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

the  mouth  before  dropping  it  into  the  gun.  By  thus  imitating  the 
eating  of  game,  success  in  hunting  is  rendered  certain.1  A 
Blackfoot  Indian  who  has  set  a  trap  for  eagles  will  not  eat 
rosebuds,  because,  if  he  did,  when  an  eagle  alighted  near  the  trap 
the  rosebuds  in  the  hunter's  stomach  would  make  the  bird  itch 
and,  instead  of  swallowing  the  bait,  the  eagle  would  merely  sit 
and  scratch  itself.2  When  a  Malay  has  baited  a  trap  for  croco- 
diles he  is  careful  in  eating  his  curry  to  begin  by  swallowing  three 
lumps  of  rice  successively.  This  helps  the  bait  to  slide  easily 
down  the  crocodile's  throat.3  Spencer  and  Gillen  have  described 
in  minute  detail  the  elaborate  ceremonies  performed  by  the 
Central  Australian  natives  for  the  purpose  of  multiplying  the 
witchetty  grubs  which  are  an  important  means  of  subsistence. 
Men  of  the  witchetty  grub  totem  build  a  long  narrow  structure 
of  branches  in  imitation  of  the  chrysalis  case  of  the  grub.  In  this 
bower  the  men  seat  themselves  and  sing  of  the  witchetty  in  its 
various  stages  of  development.  At  length  they  shuffle  out  in  a 
squatting  posture,  singing  of  the  insect  emerging  from  the 
chrysalis.  This  insures  an  abundance  of  grubs.4 

Survivals  of  imitative  magic  are  not  quite  so  easy  to  identify 
in  later  civilizations  as  are  survivals  of  the  economy  of  luck, 
yet  they  are  by  no  means  infrequent.  Many  of  the  festivals 
connected  with  agriculture  among  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans,  and 
similar  festivals  surviving  until  a  comparatively  recent  period  in 
parts  of  Central  Europe,  are  clearly  of  this  nature.  In  nearly  all 
of  these  festivals  a  pantomimic  element  in  the  songs  and  dances 
and  in  the  processions  around  or  back  and  forth  across  the  fields 
is  associated  with  a  sacrificial  element  of  later  origin.  The  panto- 
mimic element  may  without  much  hesitation  be  regarded  as  a 
survival  of  the  age  of  magic.  The  myth  of  the  burning  brands 
tied  to  foxes'  tails,  which  we  find  in  the  story  of  Samson,  and 
again  in  the  Fasti  of  Ovid,5  is  believed  by  Mannhardt,  Frazer  and 

1 M.   J.   van   Baarda,   "Fabelen,   verhalen  en   overleveringen  der   Gale- 
lareezen,"   in   Bijdragen   tot   de   Taal-Landen   Volkenkunde.  van   Neder- 
landsch  Indie,  Vol.  XLV  (1895),  p.  502;  quoted  by  Frazer,  Golden  Bough 
(second  edition),  Vol.  I,  p.  25. 
'  *  G.  B.  Grinnell,  Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales,  pp.  237,  238. 

8  W.  W.  Skeat,  Malay  Magic,  p.  300. 

4  Spencer  and  Gillen,  The  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  176. 

8  Vol.  IV,  p.  681  et  seq. 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  49 

others  to  have  originated  in  the  widely  spread  notion  that  the 
fox's  tail  bears  a  close  resemblance  to  the  ear  of  wheat.  Pro- 
fessor Gubernatis  *  quotes  a  modern  Italian  folk  tale  in  which  a 
fox  is  frightened  away  by  chickens,  each  of  which  carries  in  its 
beak  an  ear  of  millet.  The  fox  is  told  that  these  ears  are  all 
foxes'  tails,  and  he  runs.  It  is  probable  enough  that,  in  a  long- 
forgotten  past,  the  foxes  were  let  loose  to  run  over  the  fields,  that 
the  magic  influence  of  their  tails  stimulating  fertility  might  insure 
an  abundant  harvest.  Presumably,  however,  the  burning  brands 
were  thought  of  not  so  much  as  imitative  and  symbolic  of  the 
light  and  heat  of  the  sun  that  would  be  necessary  to  ripen  vegeta- 
tion, as  charged  with  and  releasing  the  same  "power"  that  the 
sun  gives  forth.  Such  a  use  of  the  brand  is,  indeed,  so  obviously 
in  keeping  with  the  "general  run"  of  magic  practice  that  one  is 
surprised  to  find  Fowler,  commenting  upon  Ovid,  saying:  "If 
the  foxes  were  corn  spirits,  one  does  not  quite  see  why  they 
should  have  brands  fastened  to  their  tails."  2  The  Roman  festi- 
val of  the  Parilia  consisted  very  largely  of  imitative  magic.  The 
sheepfold  was  decked  with  green  boughs  and  a  great  wreath  was 
hung  on  the  gate : 

Frondibus   et  fixis   decorentur  ovilia   ramis, 
Et  tegat  ornatas  longa  corona  fores.3 

This  sort  of  decoration  found  throughout  Europe  to  the  present 
day  at  May  Day,  Midsummer,  Harvest  and  Christmas,  is  admit- 
tedly a  survival  of  primitive  magical  rites  to  influence  ^vegetation. 
The  purification  of  the  Roman  sheep  by  sprinkling  was,  in  like 
manner,  in  form  imitative  and  symbolic,  in  substance  an  impart- 
ing of  mana.  The  real  purification  was  accomplished  by  burning 
sulphur. 

That  many  survivals  of  a  magic  economy  could  be  found 
in  our  own  country  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt.  A  few  prac- 
tices will  occur  to  almost  every  one.  When  John  Uri  Lloyd  in 
Stringtown  on  the  Pike  makes  Cupid  turn  his  coat  inside  out  in 
order  to  change  his  luck,  he  describes  a  practice  that  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  negroes.  Once  I  witnessed  the  magical  treat- 

1  Zoologvedl  Mythology,  Vol.  II.  p.  138. 
aRoma#i  Festivals,  p.  78. 
1  Ovid,  Fasti,  IV,  737,  738. 


50      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

ment  of  lockjaw,  on  a  Massachusetts  farm  not  distant  from  my 
own.  A  nail  driven  into  the  hoof  of  a  horse  by  a  careless  black- 
smith was,  when  pulled  out  by  the  veterinary  surgeon,  carefully 
greased  by  the  owner  of  the  horse,  wrapped  in  flannel  and  kept 
in  a  warm  place  until  after  the  equine  obsequies.1  In  out  of 
the  way  neighborhoods  American  farmers  still  believe  that  hogs 
should  not  be  killed  in  the  old  of  the  moon,  because  a  waning 
moon  will  make  the  pork  shrink  in  the  pot. 

A  higher  stage  of  reasoning  than  the  analogical  is  the  deductive 
and  speculative,  or  dogmatic.  The  mind  has  grasped  the  differ- 
ence between  mere  analogy  and  necessary  implication.  It  has 
acquired  logic.  Granted  certain  premises,  the  deductive  thinker 
can  with  a  high  degree  of  certainty  arrive  at  necessary  conclu- 
sions. He  begins  to  reconstruct  the  entire  scheme  of  knowledge. 
But,  enamoured  of  logical  method,  he  fixes  attention  almost 
exclusively  upon  the  successive  steps  of  the  reasoning  process, 
often  to  the  entire  neglect  of  the  premises  upon  which  the  whole 
superstructure  rests.  The  premises,  therefore,  of  the  most  pre- 
tentious system  may  be  a  lot  of  childish  beliefs  fortified  by  age 
and  sacredness. 

It  is  when  this  stage  of  reasoning  is  reached  that  barbarian 
man,  reconstructing  his  philosophy  of  nature,  as  represented 
both  in  magic,  and  in  the  belief  in  ghosts,  almost  as  ancient, 
begins  to  people  the  unseen  realms  of  the  sky,  of  the  sea  and  of 
the  underworld  of  earth  with  personalities  of  supernatural  power  ; 
he  begins  to  create  the  immortal  gods.  To  his  anthropomorphic 
deities  he  now  ascribes  the  function,  of  meting  out  good  and 
evil.  His  whole  welfare  he  conceives  is  determined  by  their  atti- 
tude toward  him  as  an  individual  or,  to  a  yet  greater  extent,  by 
their  attitude  toward  the  community  to  which  he  belongs.  Their 
friendliness  must  at  any  cost  be  secured.  They  are  supposed  to 
have  the  needs  and  to  be  subject  to  the  passions  of  men.  They 
must  therefore  be  propitiated ;  they  must  be  well  fed  and  lavishly 
praised.  If  the  propitiator  has  reason  to  know  that  his  deities 
have  arrived  at  "the  agricultural  stage,"  he  gives  them  corn  and 
wine.  If,  however,  like  Cain,  he  reasons  from  false  premises,  he 
comes  to  grief,  and  the  blessing  falls  upon  the  Abel  who  has 

'For  a  like  example,  see  Cooper,  The  Spy,  ch.  xi. 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  51 

offered  meat.  The  entire  scheme  of  economy  is  now  transformed. 
It  becomes  a  sacrificial  economy.  Communities  and  individuals 
prosper  in  their  herding  and  their  agriculture  if  they  are  faithful 
and,  above  all,  generous  in  their  sacrifices.  Everything  that 
happens  is  viewed  as  a  special  providence.  Droughts,  famines 
and  pestilences  are  punishments,  to  be  averted,  not  by  forestry  or 
quarantine,  but  by  holocausts  and  prayer.  Glorious  crops  and 
riotous  prosperity  are  rewards  bestowed  upon  exemplary  piety. 
To  recount  the  survivals  of  the  sacrificial  economy  in  civili- 
zation would  be  to  catalogue  half  of  the  doings  of  Babylonians 
and  Egyptians,  of  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  of  later  Western 
peoples.  More  significant  is  it  to  observe  specific  survivals  that 
preserve  the  combination  of  the  magic  economy  with  the  sacri- 
ficial, as  well  as  specific  survivals  of  a  later  time  which  show 
the  continuing  influence  of  the  sacrificial  tradition  in  communities 
that  have  become  materialistic  and  businesslike.  Of  the  former 
there  is  probably  no  better  specimen  than  the  festival  of  the 
Fordicidia  (April  15),  one  of  the  oldest  sacrificial  ceremonies  in 
the  Roman  religion.  It  consisted  in  the  slaughter  of  pregnant 
cows,  one  in  the  Capitol  and  one  in  each  of  the  thirty  curiae. 

The  cows  were  offered  [says  Fowler],  as  all  authorities  agree,  to  Tellus, 
who,  as  we  shall  see,  may  be  an  indigitation  of  the  same  earth  power 
represented  by  Ceres,  Bona  Dea,  Dea  Dia,  and  other  female  deities. 
The  unborn  calves  were  torn  by  attendants  of  the  virgo  Vestalis  Maxima 
from  the  womb  of  the  mother  and  burnt,  and  their  ashes  were  kept  by 
the  vestals  for  use  at  the  Parilia  a  few  days  later.  This  was  the  first 
ceremony  in  the  year  in  which  the  vestals  took  an  active  part,  and  it 
was  the  first  of  a  series  of  acts,  all  of  which  are  connected  with  the 
fruits  of  the  earth,  their  growth,  ripening  and  harvesting.  The  object 
of  burning  the  unborn  calves  seems  to  have  been  to  procure  the  fertility 
of  the  corn  now  growing  in  the  womb  of  mother  earth,  to  whom  the 
sacrifice  was  offered.1 

Here  we  have  a  perfect  connecting  link  between  the  magic 
economy  and  the  sacrificial.  The  burning  of  anything  of  value 
would  have  been  sacrifice.  The  selection  of  a  product  and  em- 
blem of  fertility,  that  the  corn  might  abundantly  fructify, — that 
was  the  cult  oi  mana  become  magic. 

One  almost  hesitates  to  speak  of  very  modern  examples  of  the 

1  Roman  Festivals,  p.  71. 


52      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

sacrificial  economy,  even  in  a  strictly  scientific  spirit,  lest  one 
should  unwittingly  wound  the  religious  feelings  of  people  whom 
he  respects.  Disclaiming  all  such  intention,  however,  let  me  call 
attention  to  the  almost  unparalleled  intensity  of  the  belief  in 
Providence  which  prevailed  in  New  England  down  to  the  present 
generation.  Among  the  earliest  acts  of  the  Plymouth  colony  was 
the  institution  of  days  of  fasting  and  of  thanksgiving,  which  were 
no  such  mere  holidays  as  we  have  become  used  to  in  later  times. 
Let  no  one  imagine  that  these  religious  institutions  of  the  Pil- 
grims had  any  direct  bearing  upon  the  problem  of  weal  or  woe 
in  a  future  life.  They  were  religious  institutions  of  a  strictly 
economic  order.  They  were  supposed  and  expected  to  influence 
well-being  in  this  present  evil  world,  on  the  shores  of  Plymouth 
Bay,  A.D.  1621.  No  one  can  read  the  writings  of  the  Winthrops, 
Cotton  Mather,  Increase  Mather,  Bradford,  and  Samuel  Sewall, 
without  seeing  that  in  the  belief  of  those  founders  of  our  Puritan 
statecraft  in  New  England  the  people  of  the  colonies  were  es- 
pecially chosen  of  God  to  play  a  leading  role  in  the  outworking 
of  the  divine  plan  of  salvation,  and  that  to  such  end  their 
economy  would  be  guided  and  furthered  by  the  Almighty  to  just 
the  extent  necessary  to  accomplish  the  divine  purpose.  Prac- 
tically every  event  that  happened — every  change  in  prosperity, 
every  famine  or  abounding  harvest — was  explained  as  essentially 
miraculous,  and  as  following  upon  the  piety  or  the  wickedness  of 
the  colonists,  rather  than  upon  their  shrewdness,  their  energy  or 
their  thrift.  The  title  of  Edward  Johnson's  famous  treatise, 
The  Wonder-Working  Providence  of  Zion's  Saviour  in  New* 
England,  perfectly  expresses  the  habitual  attitude  of  the  early 
New  England  mind. 

Is  that  attitude  entirely  a  phenomenon  of  the  past?  Surely 
no  one  will  venture  to  say  so.  The  public  fasting  and  prayer 
that  were  observed  in  the  Middle  West  late  in  the  nineteenth 
century  when  locusts  were  moving  in  devastating  march  across 
the  great  grain  belt,  might  be  repeated  any  day,  and  generations 
will  pass  before  the  best  people  will  cease  to  believe  and  to  say 
that  the  locusts  disappeared  immediately  after  and  in  consequence 
of  those  acts  of  worship. 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  53 

Let  me  now  recall  my  main  contention  that  in  any  age  the 
system  of  economy  then  prevailing  is  a  function  not  merely  of 
the  relation  of  an  individual  to  a  purely  physical  environment, 
but  rather  of  the  relation  subsisting  between  a  physical  environ- 
ment and  a  plural  number  of  coexisting  and  resembling  indi- 
viduals, sub-social  or  social  in  their  relations  to  one  another. 
Organic  economy,  I  showed,  was  thus  to  a  great  extent  a  func- 
tion of  segregation — that  is  to  say,  of  certain  groupings  of 
resembling  organisms  in  one  given  place  or  region.  Instinctive 
economy,  in  like  manner,  I  showed  was  largely  a  function  of 
gregarious  relations  among  the  lower  animals.  In  a  still  higher 
degree,  it  is  certain,  the  luck  economy,  the  magic  economy  and  the 
sacrificial  economy,  constituting  the  first  three  stages  of  the 
rational  economy  of  man,  are  functionally  determined  by  the 
social  relations  of  men  to  one  another  in  their  slowly  developing 
communities.  These  three  economies  may  be  brought  under  the 
inclusive  term,  Ceremonial  Economy.  In  one  and  all  the  specific 
conduct  which  is  expected  to  bring  economic  well-being  is  the 
performance  of  a  ceremonial  act.  Labor  to  some  extent  of  course 
is  necessary.  Cooperation  and  the  division  of  labor  to  some 
extent  may  be  found,  but  these  purely  practical  and  materialistic 
factors  in  and  of  themselves  would  be  absolutely  unavailing,  in 
the  belief  of  primitive  or  of  barbarian  man.  Far  more  thought 
does  he  bestow  upon  the  exact  performance  of  one  or  another 
rite  than  upon  the  exact  performance  of  his  labor.  Far  more 
time  and  wealth  does  he  bestow  upon  sacrifice  than  upon  the 
accumulation  of  a  fund  of  capital. 

But  ceremony,  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  argue,  is  purely  a 
social  phenomenon.  It  is  developed  by  imitation  and  handed  on 
by  tradition.  Equally  unnecessary  is  it  to  argue  that  the  suc- 
cessive developments  of  reason,  from  the  conjectural  stage, 
which  goes  with  and  produces  the  luck  economy,  through  the 
imaginative  and  analogy-loving  stage,  which  produces  the  magic 
economy,  into  the  deductive  stage,  which  produces  the  sacrificial 
economy,  are  also  a  product  of  social  relations  and  could  nowise 
be  accounted  for  by  the  direct  relationship  of  the  individual  to 
his  physical  environment.  Reasoning  presupposes  conceptual 


54      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

thinking,  and  conceptual  thinking  presupposes  language.1  Cere- 
monial economy  is,  then,  from  first  to  last,  a  function  of  the  social 
relation. 

Now  at  length  I  come  to  a  consideration  of  those  stages  of 
economic  evolution  to  which,  and  to  which  only,  the  modern 
science  of  economics  can  be  said  to  have  an  explanatory  rela- 
tion. It  is  not  until  social  phenomena  have  become  complicated 
in  a  high  degree  that  the  phenomena  which  admit  of  explanation 
in  terms  of  modern  economic  concepts  come  into  existence.  The 
phenomena  of  organic  economy  and  of  instinctive  economy  can 
be  and  must  be  explained  in  terms  of  the  useful  potentialities  of 
the  environment,  complicated  by  segregation,  grouping,  and  the 
pluralistic  behavior  of  gregariousness.  The  phenomena  of  the 
first  three  stages  of  rational  economy  must  be  explained  in  terms 
of  the  same  facts,  further  complicated  by  that  developing  reason 
which  will  presently  evolve  notions  of  subjective  utility  and  of 
value.  These  notions  appear  at  the  dawn  of  civilization  or  pos- 
sibly just  before.  They  certainly  do  not  exist  at  a  much  earlier 
time.  The  luck  economy  is  roughly  coincident  with  that  stage  of 
evolution  which  I  have  elsewhere  called  anthropogenic  associa- 
tion.2 Magic  economy  is  roughly  coincident  with  the  earlier  half 
of  ethnogenic  association.  Sacrificial  economy  is  roughly  coinci- 
dent with  the  later  half  of  ethnogenic  association.  Only  with 
demogenic  or  civic  association  does  ceremonial  economy  in  all  its 
forms  slowly  begin  to  give  place  to  the  business  economy  of  the 
modern  man,  the  subject-matter  of  the  studies  of  the  political 
economist. 

Coincident  with  the  beginning  of  this  change  is  the  attainment 
of  inductive  reasoning  which,  thenceforth,  is  a  potent  factor  in 
further  change.  In  the  third  stage  of  reasoning,  as  we  have 
seen,  man  has  become  logical.  No  longer  satisfied  with  mere 
analogy,  much  less  with  conjecture,  he  reasons  deductively  from 

1 A  clear  perception  of  this  truth  has  led  Payne,  in  his  admirable  History 
of  the  New  World  Called  America,  to  break  in  upon  his  clear  exposition 
of  the  economic  history  of  the  civilizations  of  Mexico  and  Peru,  and  to 
devote  a  large  part  of  his  second  volume  to  an  account  of  the  nature 
and  evolution  of  the  American  languages. 

'  Principles  of  Sociology. 


THE  ECONOMIC  AGES  55 

accepted  premises  to  "necessary"  conclusions.  The  fatal  weak- 
ness of  his  procedure  lies  in  the  usual  indifference  of  his  mind 
to  the  validity  of  his  premises.  He  has  not  yet  learned  to  subject 
them  to  a  searching  criticism,  and  he  does  not  learn  to  do  so 
until,  little  by  little,  his  mind  becomes  in  a  measure  inductive. 
Now  induction,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  is  in  a  certain  sense  a 
return  to  analogy.  Systematic  induction  begins  with  observing 
the  resemblances  of  things  that  are  alike  and  the  differences  of 
things  that  are  unlike,  and,  on  the  basis  of  resemblances  and  dif- 
ferences, sorting  things  into  classes.  Strictly  speaking,  the  great 
difference  between  the  analogical  reasoner  and  the  inductive 
reasoner  is  the  difference  between  a  thorough,  exact  worker  and 
a  superficial,  inexact  worker.  Deductive  reasoning,  in  like  man- 
ner, is  a  development  of  the  conjectural  or  guesswork  state  of 
mind.  It  is  the  careful  drawing  out — by  exact  logical  steps — of 
whatever  may  be  contained  in  a  premise  taken  for  granted — that 
is,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  conjectured.  A  few  pages  back  I 
gave  qualified  assent  to  Frazer's  proposition  that  magic  was  the 
beginning  of  a  natural  philosophy.  I  may  now  add  that  belief 
in  luck  was  just  as  truly  the  beginning  of  supernaturalism.  The 
doctrine  of  magic  was  the  product  of  minds  reasoning  by  analogy 
and  capable,  in  course  of  time,  of  developing  into  minds  inductive 
and  scientific.  Belief  in  luck,  in  like  manner,  was  the  product  of 
minds  reasoning  conjecturally,  and  sure  in  time  to  develop  into 
speculative  philosophers  and  dogmatists. 

Only  when  the  human  mind  had  become  to  some  extent  sys- 
tematically inductive  and  critically  observant  of  premises  could 
the  real  relations  of  cause  and  effect  in  nature  be  discovered ;  and 
only  then  could  man  understand  that  his  prosperity  must  depend 
chiefly  upon  his  systematic  industry,  his  invention,  his  skillful 
organization  of  association — in  short,  upon  the  development  of 
his  business  habits,  rather  than  of  his  ceremonial  punctiliousness. 
Then,  and  only  then,  could  begin  the  later  economic  ages,  namely : 
the  age  of  Slave  Economy,  or  of  the  systematic  exploitation  of 
servile  labor;  the  age  of  Trade  Economy,  or  of  the  exploitation  of 
situation ;  and  the  age  of  Capitalistic  Economy,  or  of  the  ex- 
ploitation of  the  powers  of  nature. 

Such  a  change  in  man's  habits  of  reasoning  probably  could  not 


56      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

have  occurred  apart  from  the  commingling  of  kinsmen  and 
strangers,  of  native  born  and  foreign  born,  which  engendered  a 
dijuos  (a  people)  in  distinction  from  an  Wvos  (a  wide  kindred). 
Demogenic  association  brought  about  comparisons  of  traditions, 
and  of  experiences,  in  the  course  of  which  long  accepted  beliefs 
were  for  the  first  time  questioned.  From  such  a  shock  dogmatism 
could  not  wholly  recover.  New  categories  of  things  and  of 
thoughts  were  inductively  formed. 

Reacting  upon  one  another  and  together  reacting  upon  tra- 
ditional culture,  demogenic  association  and  inductive  thinking 
converted  an  ethnic  society  into  a  civil  social  order,  and  created 
civilization.  Successive  steps  of  the  process  can  be  made  out. 
The  consorting  of  ethnically  heterogeneous  elements  assimilates 
practices;  incidental  discussion  correlates  ideas.  Consorting  and 
discussion  assimilate  standards  of  living,  and  thereby  standardize 
consumption.  A  standardized  consumption  and  a  verified  knowl- 
edge that  accumulates  and  permeates,  further  assimilate.  Sur- 
vivals of  the  luck,  the  magic,  and  the  sacrificial  economies  are 
resistant  to  attrition,  but  they  lose  prestige. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  QUALITY  OF   CIVILIZATION 

ACCORDING  to  varying  ratios  in  which  the  factors  of  civiliza- 
tion just  now  named  and  others  are  combined,  civilization  de- 
velops varying  qualities.  Process  and  product  are  disclosed  by 
the  earliest  civilizations  and,  as  well  and  on  a  larger  scale,  by 
the  turbulent  civilization  of  our  own  time.  Having  dwelt  so 
long  upon  primitive  thoughts  and  doings  I  shall  now,  partly  for 
change  of  scene,  and  partly  for  perspective,  take  many  of  my 
facts  from  American  life.  . 

From  early  times  men  have  seen  a  significant  association  be- 
tween ethnic  and  social  solidarity.  They  have  associated  the 
jostling  of  ill-assorted  elements  in  urban  multitudes  with  a  relative 
failure  of  collective  achievement.  Both  Greek  and  Roman 
writers  turned  this  popular  wisdom  to  literary  and  to  philosoph- 
ical account.  In  a  well-known  writing,  addressed  to  his  mother 
Helvia,  Seneca,  prime  minister  to  the  Emperor  Nero,  has  de- 
scribed the  social  population  of  Rome  and  incidentally  has  be- 
trayed his  own  personal  estimate  of  the  civilization  which  he 
loyally,  if  sometimes  discreetly,  served. 

Behold  this  multitude  [he  exclaims]  to  which  the  habitations  of  a  city 
scarce  suffice!  It  is  mainly  composed  of  people  not  born  at  Rome. 
From  country  towns,  from  colonies,  from  the  whole  wide  world,  they 
flow  hither  as  a  river.  Some  are  spurred  by  ambition,  others  come  to 
fulfil  public  functions.  Debauchees  seek  here  a  place  where  every  vice 
may  be  indulged.  Some  among  us  have  come  to  satisfy  their  taste 
for  letters  and  the  arts,  others  their  craving  for  spectacular  shows.  People 
flock  hither  in  the  wake  of  friends,  to  display  their  talents  on  a  wider 
stage.  Some  are  here  to  sell  their  beauty,  others  to  sell  their  eloquence. 
In  short,  the  human  race  foregathers  here,  in  a  city  where  virtues  and 
vices  alike  are  paid  at  higher  rates  than  elsewhere  in  the  world.1 

The  traits  of  Roman  civilization  are  every  day  discovered  in  the 
life  of  modern  nations — a  circumstance  explainable  in  part  by  the 

1  Seneca,  Consolation?  ad  Helviam,  6. 

57 


58      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

facts,  in  part  by  the  unconcealed  historical  scholarship  of  our 
public  men — and  predictions  are  freely  made  that  America,  in 
particular,  fs  destined  to  repeat  the  story  of  imperial  decline  and 
fall.  Contrasting  with  this  light  readiness  to  interpret  ourselves 
in  terms  of  Roman  experience,  is  our  silent  admission  that  we  are 
not  reproducing  civilizations  to  which  Rome,  even  as  their  con- 
queror, paid  the  tribute  of  respect. 

No  historian  has  proclaimed  resemblance  between  any  modern 
people  and  the  creators  of  a  civilization  which  for  four  thou- 
sands years  endured  in  the  Valley  of  the  Nile.  Splendid  and 
imperishable,  Egypt  stands  supreme  and  apart.  Protected  by 
desert  frontiers  from  recurrent  invasion,  and  from  immigration 
on  the  great  scale,  her  people,  more  homogeneous  than  any  other 
considerable  population  of  which  we  have  record,  developed  a 
community  of  mind  which  enabled  them  without  the  harsher  fea- 
tures of  despotism  to  combine  their  efforts  in  an  amazing  col- 
lective efficiency.  Intellectual  and  economic  power,  religious  and 
artistic  sincerity,  expressing  themselves  through  the  perfect  co- 
operation of  men  who  spontaneously  felt  alike  and  thought  alike, 
produced  an  unrivaled  unity  and  stability  which  stamped  the 
quality  of  incomparable  dignity  upon  Egyptian  civilization. 

There  is  no  other  land  like  Egypt,  and  so  it  has  happened  that 
regions  bountiful  enough  to  support  dense  populations  have 
attracted  a  multitude  of  ill-assorted  elements.  And  with  what 
result?  The  confusion  of  tongues  at  Babylon  was  typical  of  the 
incapacity  of  mixed  multitudes  for  great  cooperation,  except  as 
they  have  been  organized  by  external  authority,  or  have  them- 
selves evolved  the  imperator.  If  their  territory  has  been 
exposed  to  invasion,  they  have  fallen  under  the  yoke  of  a  con- 
queror, or  war  has  hammered  them  into  a  more  or  less  mechan- 
ical cohesion.  In  either  case,  they  have  developed  a  militaristic 
empire  which  commonly  has  displayed  the  qualities  of  power  and 
splendor,  but  at  the  cost  of  freedom. 

In  regions  not  favorable  to  large  military  operations,  like  the 
Aegean  Islands,  or  the  diversified  coasts  of  mainland  Greece, 
mixed  populations,  maintaining  their  local  liberties,  have  created 
civilizations  marked  by  intellectual  expansion,  but  riot  safe- 
guarded by  political  cohesion.  Too  frail  to  hold  their  own  in 


THE  QUALITY  OF  CIVILIZATION  59 

the  struggle  for  existence,  they  have  left  their  treasures  of 
thought  and  art  a  heritage  to  ruder  but  sturdier  folk. 

So  in  contrast  to  the  strong  but  not  inhumanly  despotic,  the 
vigorously  creative  but  not  ideally  free  civilization  of  homoge- 
neous Egypt,  two  original  and  distinct  types  of  civilization  appear 
to  have  been  created  in  the  early  days  by  mixed  populations ;  the 
one  harshly  despotic  but  effective,  the  product  of  incessant  war; 
the  other  free  and  differentiated,  intellectually  and  morally  dy- 
namic, but  unstable,  the  product  of  an  exuberant  community  life 
under  conditions  of  local  security. 

Rome,  militaristic  for  purposes  of  expansion  chiefly,  and  not 
compelled  to  fight  incessantly  for  her  life  with  enemies  nearly  as 
strong  as  herself,  created  a  civilization  of  compromise.  Imperially 
strong,  she  often  respected  and  safeguarded  the  local  liberties  of 
her  component  parts,  and  usually  protected  the  personal  liberties 
of  her  citizens.  Under  these  conditions  an  individualism  arose 
which  submitted  itself  at  least  conventionally  to  the  imperial  will, 
but  displayed  little  sense  of  obligation  to  the  collective  welfare. 
It  is  the  compromise  civilization  of  Rome  which  survives  in  our 
world  today. 

The  resources  of  a  new  continent  have  drawn  to  America  a 
population  as  variegated  as  that  which  crowded  the  Euphrates 
valley  and  more  miscellaneous  than  that  by  the  Tiber.  Pro- 
tected by  ocean  barriers  against  military  invasion,  and  not  com- 
pelled, as  Rome  was,  to  conquer  room  for  free  expansion,  the 
American  population  has  been  working  out  an  experiment  largely 
new.  With  a  minimum  of  foreign  war,  and  without  militarism, 
it  has  created  a  more  than  imperial  political  solidarity  with  rela- 
tively little  restraint  until  now  of  local  or  personal  liberty.  It 
has  created,  too,  an  individual  enterprise  without  parallel,  but  it 
has  yet  to  achieve  the  diversified  and  finer  results  of  collective 
efficiency. 

For  sectarian  liberty  and  local  independence  the  colonists  of 
New  England  sacrificed  most  other  things  that  men  have  cared 
for.  In  extreme  contrast,  it  was  not  community  life  of  any 
kind,  but  an  untrammeled  individualism  that  fixed  the  ideas  and 
formed  the  habits  of  pioneer  adventurers  who  conquered  the  wil- 
derness beyond  the  Appalachian  ranges  and  traversed  the  plains 


60      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

of  the  West.  And  in  those  environments  for  two  generations  the 
opportunities  for  individual  achievement  were  limitless  and  in- 
toxicating. It  is  therefore  not  strange  that  men  of  obscure 
origin  have  wielded  in  America  a  power  greater  than  that  of 
old-world  kings,  not  occasionally,  as  from  time  to  time  has  hap- 
pened in  other  lands,  but  in  so  many  hundreds  of  instances  that 
no' one  can  recall  them  all.  By  sheer  individual  effort  and  indi- 
vidually controlled  organization,  Americans  have  created  in  less 
than  three  hundred  years  the  greatest  aggregation  ever  seen,  of 
industry  and  graft,  of  capital  and  wreckage,  of  toil  and  luxury, 
of  comfort  and  misery,  of  sanctification  and  crime. 

In  the  domain  of  collective  achievement  we  have  attained  no 
corresponding  eminence,  although  we  have  accomplished  much 
that  has  been  worth  while.  On  the  executive  side  our  central 
government  has  been  strong  and  our  state  governments  have  been 
vigorous,  because  they  have  been  products  of  a  party  system  built 
up  by  machine  methods  under  boss  leadership,  which  always,  in 
the  last  resort,  is  the  unifying  political  agency  in  mixed  popula- 
tions. In  matters  of  administrative  detail,  it  is  generally  ac- 
knowledged, we  have  been  wasteful  and  incompetent,  while  on 
the  legislative  side  of  political  endeavor,  we  have  conspicuously 
shown  the  ineffectiveness  of  unlike-minded  men  in  cooperative 
undertakings.  Our  legislation  has  been  discontinuous  and  un- 
coordinated, a  product  largely  of  shameless  bargaining  among 
conflicting  interests. 

And  indisputably  we  have  not  by  any  happy  combination  of 
public  activity  with  individual  enterprise  achieved  certain  results 
of  collective  effort  which  are  commonly  held  to  be  distinctive  of 
genuine,  not  to  say  high,  civilization.  We  have  not  effectively 
protected  life  against  criminal  attack  or  against  industrial  acci- 
dent, certainly  not  in  the  measure  which  experiment  has  shown 
to  be  attainable.  We  have  not  as  a  general  thing  made  our 
towns  safe  against  the  elemental  risk  of  fire,  or  beautiful  to  look 
upon,  or  satisfying  to  the  mind. 

We  have,  however,  developed  national  feeling  and  patriotism. 
Notwithstanding  the  heterogeneity  of  our  population,  we  ac- 
knowledge a  certain  solidarity  of  sentiment,  and  it  appears  to  be 


THE  QUALITY  OF  CIVILIZATION  61 

fortified  and  possibly  is  more  or  less  guided  by  an  increasing 
solidarity  of  opinion. 

We  have  been  in  the  habit  of  attributing  this  measure  of  agree- 
ment to  example  and  suggestion.  We  have  thought  of  it  as  both 
an  unconscious  influence  and  a  conscious  teaching  proceeding 
from  a  hitherto  dominant  Anglo-Saxon  stock.  We  explain  so 
much  solidarity  of  mind  and  heart  as  now  prevails  as  a  product 
largely  of  assimilation,  and  our  faith  in  the  American  future  rests 
chiefly  in  our  ability  further  to  assimilate  the  differing  minds 
and  wills  of  our  citizens  of  foreign  birth. 

It  is  worth  while,  therefore,  to  ask  what  assimilative  forces 
have  chiefly  been  effective  so  far  in  American  life,  and  are  likely 
further  to  strengthen  such  community  of  spirit  as  may  yet  give 
to  our  civilization  the  qualities  of  unity,  effectiveness,  and  dignity, 
without  restraint  of  freedom. 

First  among  these  forces  I  think  we  must  name  a  standardized 
consumption.  The  immigrant  discards  the  costume  of  his  native 
land  and  adopts  American  clothing.  With  it  he  demands  for  his 
house  and  table  the  products  that  "everybody"  has.  This  phrase 
almost  literally  describes  the  economic  satisfactions  of  our  well- 
to-do  population.  We  have  only  to  call  to  mind  such  articles  of 
universal  use  as  the  carpet  or  rug,  wall-paper,  table  linen,  piano 
or  phonograph,  expensive  clothing  and  jewelry,  and  to  reflect 
upon  the  aggregate  investment  in  such  costly  comforts  as  the 
automobile,  by  classes  that  were  supposed  to  be  unable  to 
afford  them,  to  realize  how  tremendous  has  become  the  stand- 
ardizing influence  of  example  and  imitation  in  this  field  of  eco- 
nomic consumption.  As  consumers  of  wealth  we  exhibit  mental 
and  moral  solidarity.  We  want  the  same  things.  We  have  the 
same  tastes.  So  far  as  this  part  at  least  of  our  life  is  concerned 
we  have  the  basis  and  the  fact  of  a  highly  general  consciousness 
of  kind. 

On  this  fact  rests  the  pertinent  rejoinder  to  social  theories 
which  allege  that  neither  the  consciousness  of  kind  itself  nor  any 
underlying  community  of  thought  and  feeling,  can  henceforth  be 
the  ground  of  social  solidarity  or  the  characteristic  phenomenon 
of  the  social  mind.  The  economic  operations  of  modern  times  are 


62      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

carried  on  through  specialization,  and  the  industrial  system,  as  we 
frankly  recognize,  is  more  and  more  becoming  a  correlation  of 
differences  in  a  working  organization.  Therefore,  it  is  contended 
— for  example  by  Emile  Durkheim — that  it  is  only  the  primitive 
undifferentiated  group  that  is  held  together  by  a  consciousness  of 
kind.  The  modern  complex  group  is  an  economic  fact,  and  the 
social  consciousness,  as  Cooley  explains  it,  is  the  recog- 
nition quite  as  much  of  complementary  differences  as  of  mental 
and  moral  similarities. 

What  actually  has  happened,  however,  in  the  economic  evolu- 
tion of  modern  populations  has  been,  on  the  side  of  production  a 
marvelous  differentiation  and  development  of  the  division  of 
labor  and,  on  the  side  of  consumption,  an  equally  marvelous 
standardizing  and  assimilation.  In  the  primitive  community  and 
in  the  undeveloped  rural  community  now,  every  family  produces 
many  things,  and  each  individual  is  to  some  extent  a  Jack-of-all- 
trades.  At  the  same  time  each  individual  as  a  consumer  asserts 
his  individuality.  He  wears  his  hair  long  or  short,  according  to 
his  whim,  and  never  tires  of  declaiming  against  the  manners  and 
the  morals  of  city  folk  who  must  follow  fashion  at  any  cost.  In 
the  urban  community,  by  contrast,  consumption  is  ruled  by  the 
mode,  while  in  the  productive  realm  the  Jack-of -all-trades  and 
master  of  none  is  ever  out  of  a  job. 

Moreover,  if  our  accepted  economic  philosophy  is  sound,  it  is 
because  of  the  standardization  of  consumption  that  we  are  en- 
abled continually  to  differentiate  the  processes  of  production,  and 
to  specialize  abilities.  For  while,  as  Adam  Smith  demonstrated, 
the  division  of  labor  is  limited  by  the  extent  of  the  market,  the 
extent  of  the  market,  as  perhaps  Smith  did  not  quite  so  clearly 
see,  is  ultimately  determined  by  the  standardization  of  con- 
sumption. 

Therefore  it  seems  a  safe  assumption  that  the  characteristic 
economic  evolution  of  modern  times,  while  producing  differen- 
tiated ability  as  an  incident  of  production,  is  also  inevitably  pro- 
ducing a  remarkable  uniformity  of  mind  and  habit  in  respect  of 
consumption,  and  therefore  an  ever-increasing  consciousness  of 
kind  to  balance  and  control  the  consciousness  of  difference. 

A  second  assimilating  force  is  the  scientific  view  of  nature, 


THE  QUALITY  OF  CIVILIZATION  63 

which  all  mankind  is  being  forced  to  adopt  because  of  our  modern 
methods  of  getting  a  living. 

For  ten  thousand  years  or  more,  as  was  shown,  the  human 
race  lived  by  belief;  it  will  live  henceforth  by  knowledge.  Its 
belief  has  been  nine-tenths  credulity,  to  one  part  of  reasonable 
and  sustaining  faith  in  the  possibilities  of  life.  It  has  believed  in 
luck  and  magic,  in  miracle  and  providential  aid.  By  luck  it  has 
subsisted  on  fish  and  game ;  by  magic  it  has  sustained  the  fertility 
of  its  fields ;  by  miracle  and  providential  aid  it  has  harvested  its 
crops  and  brought  its  ships  to  port. 

The  religions  of  luck  and  miracle  have  been  a  multitude  of 
faiths  that  no  man  could  number.  Each  has  united  a  band,  a  sect, 
or  a  greater  body  of  devotees,  but  each  of  these  bodies  has  dis- 
trusted and  anathematized  all  others.  And  so  long  as  religious 
differences  have  played  a  vital  part  in  life,  thoroughgoing  assim- 
ilation and  a  universal  consciousness  of  kind  have  been  impossible. 

But  henceforth,  in  our  own  land  at  least,  the  people  will  not 
get  their  bread  by  luck,  nor  yet  by  miracle.  Not  only  our  manu- 
facturing industries  and  our  mining  operations,  but  also  our 
commerce  and  our  agriculture,  rest  today  firmly  and  broadly  upon 
the  scientific  interpretation  of  nature.  On  every  farm  the  boy 
learns  something  of  chemistry  and  of  biology,  as  in  every  shop 
he  learns  something  of  mechanics,  of  thermodynamics,  and  of 
electricity.  And  so  it  is  coming  about  that  millions  of  human 
beings  can  no  longer  be  mentally  diverse  in  quite  the  same  old 
fashion.  They  can  no  longer  swear  by  quite  so  many  strange  and 
jealous  gods.  They  must  think  and  they  will  think  the  same 
thoughts.  They  must  view  nature  in  the  same  way,  and  look 
forth  upon  life  from  the  same  point  of  observation,  not  because 
they  have  been  converted  by  any  proselyter,  but  because  only  so, 
under  modern  conditions,  can  they  obtain  their  daily  bread. 

It  may  be  optimistic  to  say,  but  probably  it  is  true,  that  democ- 
racy, crude  as  it  is  and  disappointing,  is  subtly  an  assimilating 
influence,  as  it  is  blatantly  a  leveling  force. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  and  probably  the  most  hopeful 
development  in  present  day  political  life  is  an  increasing  attention 
to  things,  over  against  an  undue  attention  to  persons.  Repre- 
sentative government  has  been,  all  in  all,  the  best  kind  of 


64      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

government  that  men  have  been  able  to  get  results  by,  and  it 
remains  indispensable,  even  where  we  have  also  much  direct 
democracy.  No  one  claims  perfection  for  representation,  how- 
ever, and  its  chief  shortcoming  is  betrayed  by  an  unfortunate 
psychological  reaction.  It  permits  men  indolently  to  give  over 
to  delegated  agents  the  consideration  of  concrete  questions  of 
public  policy  with  the  result,  all  too  apparent,  that  political  ac- 
tivity is  resolved  into  a  struggle  over  candidates  while  we  neglect 
to  grapple  earnestly  with  questions.  Direct  democracy,  in  con- 
trast, breaks  down  when  it  attempts  to  take  over  all  legislative  and 
administrative  functions ;  yet  it  has  merits,  chief  of  which  is  its 
educative  efficacy.  It  stimulates  the  citizen  to  think,  with  such 
intellectual  power  as  he  possesses,  upon  questions,  the  issues 
themselves.  It  was  this  virtue  that  made  the  New  England  town 
meeting  the  greatest  school  of  political  science  and  art  that  has 
existed  among  men.  Through  experiments  in  direct  democracy, 
some  of  which  work  out  well  while  many  go  wrong,  entire  peoples 
are  learning  now  in  a  large  way  as  the  New  England  folk  gener- 
ations ago  in  a  small  way  learned  to  think  about  things  as  well  as 
to  care  about  candidates ;  and  this  thinking  assimilates. 

If  it  be  contended  that  the  quality  of  a  civilization  is  most 
affected  by  the  physical  vigor  and  the  intellectual  power  of  the 
population  concerned,  it  will  be  admitted,  I  suppose,  that  assimi- 
lation is  the  factor  significant  in  next  degree.  Assimilation,  like 
indifferent  nature  mechanically,  and  like  the  conscious  intelligence 
of  man  creatively,  selects  and  combines.  It  rejects  attitudes  and 
habits  that  do  not  "fit  in" ;  it  modifies  and  combines  those  that  do 
fit  in.  So  it  creates  a  type,  as  imitation  creates  a  style ;  and  style 
and  type  are  things  of  quality.  The  most  conscious  selection  of 
color  values  by  a  painter,  of  notes  and  bars  by  a  composer,  does 
not  more  surely  produce  distinction  (or  vulgarity)  than  a  select- 
ing and  converting  assimilation  produces  a  quality  of  behavior. 

Much  depends  upon  the  amount  of  assimilative  work  to  be 
done.  A  population  may  be  too  heterogeneous  to  be  civilized 
(appreciably)  by  assimilation  (or  otherwise)  until  natural  se- 
lection has  weeded  out  unassimilable  elements.  What  is  to  hap- 
pen in  the  Americas,  North  and  South,  prudent  prophets  do  not 
prophesy  too  confidently.  The  confusion  of  tongues  has  not 


THE  QUALITY  OF  CIVILIZATION  65 

abated  in  any  nation  of  these  continents,  and  in  the  United  States 
(whatever  is  happening  elsewhere)  the  clamor  of  conflicting 
purposes  does  not  suBside.  We  are  reckless  and  unprepared,  but 
noisily  determined  to  be  redoubtable.  We  are  self-indulgent  and 
lawless,  but  resolved  to  make  ourselves  good  by  law.  We  are 
sentimental  and  irresponsible,  but  set  on  efficiency.  We  buy 
editions,  but  do  not  diligently  read.  We  live  "handsomely,"  but 
not  carefully,  nor  always  self-respectingly.  While  these  condi- 
tions prevail  our  civilization  cannot  "settle";  it  cannot  clarify; 
and  until  it  runs  more  limpid  than  now  it  cannot  temper  zeal  with 
dignity,  or  chasten  power  with  graciousness. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  THEORY   OF   HISTORY 

THERE  may  have  been  theories  of  history  before  The  Book  of 
the  Dead  was  compiled.  The  title  itself  of  that  cheerful  Nilitic 
document  suggests  that  there  were.  Perhaps  there  will  be 
theories  of  history  after  the  Adams  family  has  been  forgotten, 
although  this  is  more  doubtful.  That  there  will  be  comprehensive 
(and  plausible)  philosophies  of  history  after  the  intellectual  re- 
mains of  Friedrich  Hegel  and  Karl  Marx  have  been  cremated,  is 
highly  probable. 

Speculation  is  here  piquant  and  more  or  less  alluring,  but 
profitless.  Turning,  therefore,  to  the  record  of  occurrence,  one 
remarks  that  the  historical  theories  of  history  are  nearly  as 
numerous  as  historians.  Paradoxically,  however,  their  histor- 
icity lies  almost  wholly  in  the  circumstance  that  they  are  facts 
of  record.  So  far  as  intellectual  content  goes  they  are  phil- 
osophy rather  than  history,  and  the  outstanding  ones  have  been 
evolved  by  philosophers,  not  brought  forth  by  historians.  The 
reason,  of  course,  is  simple.  History  primarily  is  factual  de- 
tail, and  altogether  concrete.  Secondarily  it  ventures,  timor- 
ously, upon  generalization.  It  depicts  "situations,"  "general  as- 
pects," and  "trends."  In  so  doing  it  becomes,  in  modest  measure, 
philosophy  or  (sadly  or  gladly)  sociology! 

No  fault  can  be  found,  therefore,  with  sociologists  of  the 
shameless  sort  if,  to  conserve  energy,  they  generalize  further  and 
examine  the  theories  of  history  not  individually,  in  every  instance, 
but  usually  by  kinds  or  types. 

From  Plato  to  Comte  and  from  Comte  to  the  Adams  brothers 
one  encounters  five  distinct  type  groups  of  theories  of  history. 

The  first  group  comprises  the  predestinational  philosophies  of 
the  metaphysicians,  theological  and  other.  In  the  second  group 
fall  the  philosophies  of  social  self-determination.  Plato's  view, 

66 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  67 

by  his  own  account  of  it,  was  a  hybrid.  In  part  the  gods  arrange 
human  affairs,  in  part  men  freely  plan  and  freely  achieve.  A 
third  group  of  interpretations  goes  back  to  geographical  or  "en- 
vironmental" influence.  The  writings  of  Montesquieu  remain 
the  classical  example,  but  the  painstaking  researches  of  present- 
day  workers  like  Ellen  C.  Semple  and  Ellsworth  Huntington  are 
building  a  more  substantial  structure. 

Theories  of  the  fourth  group  explain  history  in  terms  of 
heritage  (not  heredity).  Heritage  is  the  total  product  (and 
by-product)  of  human  activity  hitherto  which  we  now  enjoy.  It 
includes  our  acquired  habits  (in  distinction  from  our  original 
instinctive  nature),  our  arts,  our  knowledge  and  our  property. 
Piling  up  and  distributing  heritage,  history  cuts  its  own  tortuous 
channel,  as  a  river  does  when  it  scours  mud  and  gravel  from  one 
bank  to  contribute  it  to  the  other.  In  their  several  and  unlike  ways 
Comte,  Buckle  and  Karl  Marx  interpret  history  in  terms  of 
heritage.  Comte  sees  mankind  moving  from  a  theological  through 
a  metaphysical  into  a  positive  or  scientific  intellectual  habit. 
Buckle  corrects  naive  resolutions  of  history  into  geography  and 
climate  by  calling  in  a  secondary  or  cultural  environment,  ante- 
cedent or  contemporaneous.  The  Marxian  "materialistic" 
interpretation,  notwithstanding  the  mistaken  and  extravagant 
claims  that  have  been  made  for  it,  is  materialistic  in  a  moral 
sense  of  the  word  only.  It  is  an  attempt  to  account  for  all  that 
has  happened  or  can  happen  to  socially  organized  mankind  by  the 
aggregation  and  functioning  of  property. 

The  working  hypotheses  that  make  up  our  fifth,  and  for  the 
time  being  last,  group  of  philosophies  of  history,  are  modern. 
They  are  chapters  out  of  the  book  of  cosmic  dynamics.  They 
account  for  the  stream  of  human  experience  as  the  solar  system 
or  a  thunder  storm  is  accounted  for,  as  a  case  of  equilibration. 
Herbert  Spencer  and  Brooks  Adams,  leaving  nothing  to  imagina- 
tion, resolve  it  into  a  degradation  of  physical  energy.  Individual 
biologists  and  bio-anthropologists,  taking  the  degradation  of 
energy  for  granted,  see  history  as  heredity  and  natural  selection. 
Taking  physics  and  biology  both  for  granted,  I  am  writing  these 
pages  to  intimate,  and  perhaps  gently  to  argue,  that  human 
history  is  a  psychological,  or  behavioristic,  equilibration. 


68      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

The  premise  merely,  or  datum,  from  which  this  intimation 
and  this  argument  must  proceed  is  not  new.  Modern  fashion 
denies  it  and  sneers  at  it.  The  premise  is  that  men  are  not  born 
equal,  and  from  the  beginning  of  time  never  have  been.  Or,  in 
the  language  of  dynamics,  it  is  that  just  as  heat  energy  is  not 
uniformly  distributed  in  space,  and  therefore  radiates  from  mole- 
cules in  lively  motion  upon  molecules  in  sluggish  motion ;  and  just 
as  physiological  vitality  is  not  uniformly  distributed  among  stocks 
and  races,  and  therefore  some  stocks  are  either  driven  to  the  wall 
or  are  kept  alive  by  such  as  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak ;  so 
behavioristic  reaction  to  stimulation,  whether  it  is  an  instinctive 
or  a  rational  reaction,  impulsive  or  forecasting,  is  more  alert  and 
more  tireless,  more  ranging  and  more  varied,  more  modifiable 
and  more  adaptive,  better  correlated  and  better  coordinated  on 
the  part  of  some  aggregations  of  men  than  it  is  on  the  part  of 
other  aggregations;  and,  therefore,  practical  activity  spills  over 
from  alert  populations,  alert  component  groups  and  alert  con- 
stituent classes,  upon  sluggish  populations,  sluggish  component 
groups  and  sluggish  classes.  When  the  overflow  began  history 
began,  when  it  ceases  history  will  end. 

Whether  a  theory  exploitive  of  this  premise  will  prove  to  be, 
as  pure  science,  more  illuminating  or  more  clarifying  than  other 
theories  of  history  have  been,  I  am  not  sure ;  I  hope  it  may.  But 
if  it  is  true,  or  as  far  as  it  is  true,  it  has  a  pragmatic  value  that 
should  obtain  for  it  a  patient  hearing.  The  whole  world  at 
present  is  intellectually  muddled  and  morally  bedevilled.  It  is 
trying  to  reconstruct  society  upon  a  hypothetical  equality  of  all 
mankind.  If  it  succeeds,  it  will  destroy  historic  achievement 
from  the  beginning,  and  will  send  mankind  to  perdition. 

My  venture,  therefore,  is  an  adventure;  but  before  I  and  such 
as  will  go  with  me  set  forth  upon  it  let  us  linger  self -indulgently 
a  moment  (for  it  is  a  pleasurable  thing  to  do)  upon  history  in  its 
concreteness,  as  it  appeals  to  imagination  and  our  love  of  mere 
narration. 

History  is  a  scenario  and  a  play,  a  swiftly  moving  film  and  a 
drama  in  which  every  human  passion  contends  with  every  other, 
brutally  or  intellectually,  upon  the  stage  of  life.  More  than  this, 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  69 

history  is  also  a  prodigious  creative  effort,  tremendous  beyond  our 
power  to  conceive  it,  and  an  achievement  overwhelming  to  our 
finite  ability  to  appraise.  And  always,  whether  as  scenario  or  as 
play  or  yet  as  achievement,  history  is  a  story,  holding  in  every 
generation  the  interest  of  childhood  and  of  age. 

Like  all  good  stories  it  begins  in  medias  res,  that  is  to  say, 
when  men  have  lived  long  enough  and  have  learned  enough  to 
leave  written  records  of  their  doings.  It  begins,  as  far  as  our 
present  knowledge  goes,  in  Egypt  and  in  Sumer. 

But  also,  like  all  good  stories,  when  history  has  introduced 
its  characters  it  goes  back,  and  more  or  less  accounts  for  them, 
telling  us  something  of  their  previous  occupations  and  experi- 
ences, their  interests,  their  associations  and  peregrinations,  and 
how  they  happened  to  arrive  in  the  situation  where  we  have 
encountered  them.  This  chapter  in  the  story  of  history  is  now- 
a-days  called  prehistory,  and  because  we  have  no  written  records 
to  extract  it  from,  it  is  essentially  a  film  of  scenes  rather  than  a 
play,  in  the  truer  sense  of  the  word.  The  materials  for  it  have 
.been  obtained  from  geology  and  biology,  anthropology  and 
archaeology. 

As  the  reel  begins  to  move  we  see  sluggish  rivers,  and  tropical 
trees  alive  with  monkeys  that  have  learned  how  to  throw  things 
and  so,  from  safe  distance,  to  beat  off  dangerous  enemies  that 
would  make  short  work  of  them  in  the  close-up  fighting  of  bodily 
contact.  Then  we  see  apes,  bigger  and  possibly  more  clever  than 
the  gorillas  and  chimpanzees  that  survive  in  our  menageries. 
They  can  stand  almost  erect  and  fight  with  clubs  as  well  as  throw 
stones.  They  can  build  of  sticks  rough  habitations  for  their  young 
and  are  not  afraid  to  shuffle  about  on  the  ground.  Their  bones 
are  found  all  the  way  from  Farther  India  to  Southwestern 
Europe.  Presently,  in  tertiary  Java,  we  see  Pithecanthropus 
Erectus,  a  brute  so  like  an  ape  and  yet  so  like  a  man  that  com- 
parative anatomists  hesitate  to  say  for  certain  whether  he  is  a 
primate  only  or  truly  homo  sapiens.  In  any  case  he  is  a  "link," 
no  longer  "missing,"  between  man  and  his  progenitors,  and  so 
we  leave  him. 

Now  on  the  screen  come  bones — only  bones — but  they  stimulate 


70      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

imagination.  The  Heidelberg  jaw,  the  Piltdown  skull,  the 
Neanderthal  skull — these  are  remains  of  man.  Of  this  there  is 
no  doubt,  and  as  a  series  they  exhibit  our  kind  progressively  los- 
ing simian  traits  and,  throughout  one  hundred  thousand  years 
after  another,  becoming  the  human  species  to  which  we  ourselves 
belong. 

From  this  point  on  we  see  things  that  early  man  makes,  his 
artifacts:  weapons,  tools  and  utensils,  and  the  places  where  he 
makes  them  and  leaves  them.  At  first,  with  his  mate  and  chil- 
dren, his  sisters  and  brothers,  and  their  mates  and  children,  he 
lives  in  the  woods,  along  river  margins,  as  numerous  little  sav- 
age hordes  of  the  lowest  type  live  today  in!  the  Andaman 
Islands,  in  tropical  Africa  and  in  Brazil ;  or  they  wander  off  in 
the  bush,  as  Australians  and  Bushmen  do.  They  hunt  and  fish 
and  build  habitations  of  boughs  not  much  better  than  the  gorilla's. 
Arrowheads  and  spearheads  they  make  by  roughly  chipping 
flints.  They  weave  mats  of  shredded  bark  and  rude  baskets  of 
osiers  and  reeds. 

They  are  widely  dispersed,  some  of  them  in  far  northern 
parts  of  Asia  and  of  Europe.  With  subtropical  animals  they 
made  their  way  there,  we  guess,  in  the  mild  weather  of  inter- 
glacial  time.  Now  the  ice  of  a  new  glaciation  creeping  south- 
ward overtakes  them.  They  retreat  before  it.  Multitudes  of 
them  perish.  Only  the  hardy  and  the  resourceful  survive.  In 
the  great  caverns  of  Southern  Europe  they  find  shelter.  There 
through  thousands  of  years  they  dwell,  learning  to  flake  by  pres- 
sure the  flints  that  before  they  chipped.  They  make  axes  and 
hammers  of  stone,  awls  and  needles  of  bone.  They  clothe  them- 
selves with  skins.  They  carve  ivory.  They  learn  to  draw  and 
to  paint  and  cover  the  walls  of  their  caves  with  realistic  (and 
beautiful)  pictures  of  the  cave  bear,  the  sabre-toothed  tiger  and 
the  mastodon  which  they  dread,  and  of  the  reindeer  on  which 
they  subsist.  These  are  the  greatest  of  the  paleolithic  people,  the 
remarkable  men  of  the  Old  Stone  Age. 

Elsewhere,  in  Northern  Africa  and  in  Southwestern  Asia, 
paleolithic  men  become  neolithic.  They  grind  and  polish  their 
stone  implements.  Experimenting  with  clay  they  fashion  pottery 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  71 

on  which  they  work  geometrical  designs,  possibly  symbolic,  by 
incising  lines  into  which  they  rub  gypsum.  Generations  pass. 
By  hand  labor  they  till  patches  Of  ground  in  which  they  have 
planted  seeds  or  roots.  They  cut  trees  into  logs  and  fashion  logs 
into  posts,  piles,  beams  and  boards.  They  build  houses  to  dwell 
in,  and  platforms,  supported  by  posts  driven  into  the  ground  or 
by  piles  driven  in  water,  on  which  they  enact  ceremonies  and 
afterwards  build  houses.  They  make  canoes  and  boats.  Again 
generations  pass.  On  the  grass-lands  of  Africa  and  Arabia, 
of  Western  Asia  and  Eastern  Europe,  we  see  restless  groups  of 
kinsmen  caring  for  herds  of  goats  and  sheep  and  for  larger  herds 
of  cattle.  In  the  oases  of  Africa  and  of  Arabia  and  of  Central 
Asia  east  of  the  Caspian  Sea  we  see  villages  built  of  various 
materials,  wood  and  stone  and  sunbaked  clay.  We  see  shelters  for 
cattle,  ditches  and  moats  filled  with  water,  cisterns  of  water  and 
wells,  storehouses  of  grain,  fires  carefully  kept  alive,  altars  and 
secret  places  where  ceremonies  are  observed. 

More  generations  come  and  go.  Throughout  Northern  Africa, 
throughout  Central  and  Southern  Asia,  throughout  Central  and 
Southern  Europe,  men  are  living  in  villages  and  in  little  towns. 
These  are  strung'  like  beads  along  the  Euphrates  and  the  Nile. 
Against  druidic  backgrounds  of  ancient  oaks  and  pines  they  hide 
in  quiet  valleys  among  the  foot-hills  of  mountain  ranges.  With 
their  backs  to  walls  of  rock  they  defy  the  storms  of  wind-swept 
uplands.  On  platforms  supported  by  piles,  they  are  built  above 
the  waters  of  Swiss  and  Italian  lakes;  or,  on  dry  land,  with 
moats  around  them — terramare — they  strangely  imitate  the  lake 
constructions.  In  all  of  these  various  situations  the  inhabitants 
keep  pigs  and  goats  and  cattle,  and  raise  crops.  A  division  of 
status  and  of  work  is  seen.  The  people  of  a  community  are  no 
longer  in  every  instance  of  one  kindred.  Often  the  "place"  is 
in  fact  not  one  village  but  two  adjacent  villages.  In  the  superior 
one  live  kinsmen,  who  possess  and  rule  the  land  round  about.  In 
the  lowlier  one  live  "aliens,"  a  miscellaneous  assemblage  of  "kin 
wrecked"  folk,  ruined  by  war  or  driven  forth  as  offenders  from 
the  clans  of  their  birth.  They  have  been  taken  in.  They  are 
harbored  and  defended  and  allotted  land  to  use  on  condition  that 


72      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

they  render  prescribed  services.  These  are  the  "village  com- 
munities" that  economic  historians  used  to  picture  as  "free," 
idyllic,  communistic  democracies! 

Near  every  settlement  is  a  burial  place,  a  "long  barrow"  or  a 
"round  barrow"  of  earth,  or,  now  and  then,  a  hollow  cairn  built 
of  stones,  perhaps  in  imitation  of  the  caves  where  paleolithic  dead 
were  laid :  two  unhewn  shafts  supporting  a  heavy  lintel  above 
are  the  portal.  Here  and  there  also,  at  intervals  from  the  Persian 
Gulf  to  Southwestern  England,  are  more  impressive  megalithic 
monuments :  avenues  of  giant  shafts  or  great  circular  enclosures 
like  Stonehenge.  Presumably  they  have  to  do  with  festival  pro- 
cessions and  athletic  events.1 

With  one  more  scene  the  film  of  prehistory  ends.  In  moun- 
tain gulches  men  dig  copper,  and  elsewhere  tin.  A  glare  against 
the  sky  by  night  betrays  the  places  where  they  mix  and  smelt 
them,  in  rude  crucibles  of  clay.  They  are  making — bronze ! 

The  human  species  now  has  overspread  the  earth,  and  racial 
varieties  of  it,  both  major  and  minor,  are  identified  with  broad 
geographical  habitats.  An  Australian-African  major  division  is 
black,  kinky-haired,  prognathic  and  usually  dolichocephalic.  An 
Asian- American  major  division  is  yellow  in  Asia  and  copper- 
hued  in  America,  straight-haired  and  usually  brachycephalic.  A 
European-Polynesian  major  division  is  white  in  Europe  and  in 
Northern  Asia,  including  Northern  Japan,  and  brown  in  North- 
ern Africa,  in  Southern  Asia  and  in  the  South  Pacific  islands ;  it 
is  usually  wavy-haired  and  orthognathic,  but  in  skull  shape  it  is 
anything  possible,  dolichocephalic,  mesocephalic  or  brachycephalic. 

The  European  whites,  who  by  early  differentiation  (in  Europe 
or  elsewhere)  were  of  three  varieties,  namely,  dolichocephalic 
Mediterraneans,  dolichocephalic  Baltics2  and  brachycephalic 
Caspians  (a  relatively  late  arrival),  are  now  of  four  varieties,  by 
reason  of  the  crossbreeding  of  Caspians  with  Mediterraneans 
south  of  the  Alpine  ranges  and  with  Baltics  north  of  them.  The 
Mediterraneans,  not  tall  but  well  built,  are  brunette,  with  black 
breasted,  Ancient  Times,  p.  28. 

*The  name  "Nordic,"  now  in  fashion,  should  be  given  to  the  entire 
northern  blond  half  of  the  brown-white  orthognathic  race,  whether  found 
in  Europe,  in  Siberia  or  in  Japan.  The  Baltics  are  a  sufficiently  dis- 
tinctive (and  distinguished)  variety  to  have  a  name  of  their  own. 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  73 

hair  and  dark  eyes.  The  Baltics,  tall  and  angular,  are  blond, 
with  light  hair  and  blue  eyes.  The  Alpines,  a  Caspian-Mediter- 
ranean hybrid,  are  brachycephalic,  thick  set  and  in  coloring 
variable,  but  usually  lighter  than  Mediterraneans.  The  Danu- 
beans,  a  Caspian-Baltic  hybrid,  are  brachycephalic,  tall  and  pow- 
erfully built,  prevailingly  ruddy,  with  red  beards  and  hair  and 
gray  eyes.1 

The  prevailing  languages  of  the  white  peoples  have  become 
inflectional.  An  Aryan  tongue  is  spoken  throughout  the  Asian- 
European  grass-lands.  Among  all  peoples  there  are  reactions 
of  excitement,  including  terrified  avoidances  or  fearsome  con- 
tacts, toward  innumerable  natural  objects,  in  particular,  springs, 
pools,  rivers,  cliffs,  trees,  reptiles  and  birds,  and,  in  the  grass- 
lands, bulls. 

After  prehistory,  history;  intense,  tumultuous,  short,  its  mil- 
lenniums, compared  to  prehistory's  eons,  are  a  dynamic  instant  of 
time.  Yet  (such  is  the  relativity  of  things)  the  perspective  of 
history  is  atmospheric,  if  we  keep  our  distance.  Its  scenes  are 
geographically  spacious,  if  the  eye  sweeps  boldly.  So  we  must 
view  them  now,  inattentive  to  detail. 

At  the  delta  of  the  Nile  and  far  up  its  course,  at  the  head  of 
the  Persian  Gulf  and  far  up  the  Euphrates  River,  dense  popula- 
tions are  distributed.  There  is  no  longer  pretense  that  any  one 
of  these  is  a  close-knit  kindred.  Aliens  commingle  with  the 
native  born,  and  many  languages  are  heard.  Agriculture  is  sys- 
tematically followed.  Industries  are  differentiated  and  special- 
ized. Artisans  of  amazing  skill  make  useful  things  of  bronze, 
perfect  of  their  kind,  and  fashion  silver  and  gold  and  precious 
stones  in  patterns  of  beauty.  Engineers  build  dams  and  reser- 
voirs and  a  network  of  canals,  to  control  and  distribute  the  over- 

1  The  confusion  of  Danubeans  with  Alpines  in  current  anthropological 
literature  is  peculiarly  annoying  to  the  historian.  The  Romans  discrimi- 
nated. Caesar's  Aquitani  were  Mediterraneans,  his  Celts  were  Alpines, 
his  Belgae  were  Danubeans,  his  Germans  were  Baltics.  The  fair-haired 
Achaeans  of  Homer  and  the  Hellenes  generally  were  Danubeans.  The 
Picts  of  the  British  islands  were  Mediterraneans,  the  Goidelic  Celts  were 
Alpines,  and  the  Brythonic  Celts  were  Danubeans,  whose  dialects  now, 
by  one  of  the  curious  paradoxes  of  history,  are  spoken  by  brunette  Welsh, 
Cornishmen  and  Bretons. 


74      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

flow  of  the  rivers.  Architects  of  commanding  genius  build  pal- 
aces for  the  great,  temples  for  the  gods  and  the  multitudes,  and 
tombs  for  the  venerated  dead.  Boats  ply  up  and  down  the  rivers. 
Where  were  towns  there  now  are  cities,  turbulent  with  human 
life.  Merchants  import  and  export  goods  by  caravans  that  cross 
deserts  to  foreign  parts.  Slaves  breed  in  hovels,  toil  in  quarries 
and  in  brick  yards,  and  die.  Scribes  write  down  dates  and  taxes, 
and  keep  the  record  of  dynasties.  These  urbanized  peoples  of  the 
river  valleys  of  the  Southeastern  Mediterranean  area  are  creating 
civilization.  Colonists,  exiles  and  merchants  will  bear  it  to  the 
farthest  East;  merchants  and  armies  to  the  frontiers  of  the  West. 

On  the  island  of  Crete,  Knossos,  already  old,  unfortified  but 
defiant,  commands  the  Aegean  Sea.  Beneath  it  lie  strata  of 
debris,  as  priceless  as  pearls,  left  there  by  neolithic  makers  of 
hand-burnished  pottery  and  by  "early,"  "middle"  and  "late"  Mino- 
ans.  Round  about  it  are  lesser  towns,  but  rich  and  powerful, 
which  it  controls.  On  the  Aegean  islands  are  its  countless  petty 
ports,  and  on  the  coasts  of  Greece  its  colonies:  Tiryns  on  the 
Gulf  of  Argos,  and  Mycenae,  marvelous  for  wealth  and  splendor, 
at  the  mountain  pass  as  the  trail  runs  from  Tiryns  to  Corinth. 
The  fabulous  wealth  of  this  maritime  power,  its  treasures  of 
bronze  and  gold,  have  been  paid  for  by  a  distinctive  and  highly 
perfected  art  and  by  trade  with  Egypt  and  Asia  and  the  coasts  of 
Western  Africa  and  of  Europe.  Its  ships  of  commerce  are  safe- 
guarded as  they  traverse  the  sea,  and  at  every  port,  by  ships  of 
war — the  first  sea  power.1  Against  this  unique  resplendent  civi- 
lization of  the  Mid-East  Mediterranean  area  the  armies  of  Egypt 
and  of  Asia  do  not  aggress. 

Between  the  Black  Sea  and  the  Mediterranean,  between  the 
Taurus  mountains  and  the  Caucasus,  between  the  Zagros  moun- 
tains and  the  Caspian  Sea,  stretch  the  table  lands  of  Cappadocia 
and  Armenia,  of  Media  and  Elam,  eastward  to  Persia  and  be- 
yond. The  armies  of  Egypt  and  of  the  Tigris-Euphrates  basin 
invade  them,  following  caravan  routes,  up  water  courses,  through 
canons  and  mountain  passes.  Overflowing  from  Elam  and  Media 

1  Egypt  may  first  have  navigated  the  eastern  Mediterranean,  though 
strict  proof  is  lacking;  but  the  argument  that  Egypt  was  ever  a  naval 
power  is  not  yet  convincing. 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  75 

and  presently  from  Persia,  an  Aryan  stock  repels  them  and  swiftly 
extends  its  empire.  In  Cappadocia  and  throughout  Eastern  Asia 
Minor,  a  non-Aryan  stock,  the  origins  of  which  we  do  not  see,  ap- 
pears as  a  military  power.  The  Persian  conquers  the  Euphratic, 
and  the  Hittite  conquers  a  part  of  the  Egyptian  imperial  domain. 
Each  creates  a  civilization,  in  part  derivative,  in  part  original  and 
distinctive.  These  civilizations  of  the  West-Asian  Uplands  are 
stark  and  lean,  but  outreaching.  Persia  drives  an  Aryan  influence 
into  Northwestern  India.  The  Hittite  power  transmits  Sumerian 
and  Semitic  achievement  to  the  Aryans  of  the  West. 

Enclosing  the  Aegean  and  Adriatic  Seas  three  peninsulas  thrust 
into  the  northern  waters  of  the  Mediterranean :  Asia  Minor  in  its 
western  extension,  Peloponnesian  and  Central  Greece,  and  Italy. 
Northeast,  north,  and  northwest  of  them  are  the  mystery-haunted 
lands  of  the  Aryan  dispersion.  Mountains  and  rugged  hills  hide 
lonely  valleys  or  guard  aUuvial  plains,  open  to  the  sea.  On  the 
lower  slopes  are  olive  trees  and  grapes,  and  above  them  chestnut 
trees  and  oaks.  The  coasts  are  irregular.  Gulfs  and  deep  bays 
cut  into  them,  but  also  there  are  long  straight  reaches  where  no 
harbor  can  be  found,  and  dangerous  by  reason  of  conflicting 
tides.  Between  Greece  and  Asia  Minor  Aegean  islands  can  be 
seen  off  shore.  The  sea,  impressionistically  (since  Agamemnon), 
is  purple.  On  hills  and  plains  the  sun  at  noon  is  white,  but  even- 
ing and  morning  lights  are  violet.  Beauty  has  taken  these  parts 
for  her  own.  And  hardy  men,  unafraid  of  loneliness  or  of  the 
sea,  sensitive  to  beauty  and  loving  freedom ;  shepherds,  herdsmen 
and  plowmen,  fisher  folk  and  sailors ;  and  presently  artisans  and 
merchants  have  taken  them  for  their  own.  By  comparison  with 
the  peoples  of  the  River  Valleys  they  are  a  sparse  population  and 
poor.  Their  cities,  except  possibly  Troy,  the  oldest  of  them, 
which  in  its  day  has  rivaled  Mycenae,  are  less  splendid,  and  their 
buildings  are  less  majestic  than  those  of  Thebes  and  Babylon,  but 
are  infinitely  more  appealing  to  intelligence.  Their  statues  and 
their  paintings,  for  the  first  time  in  human  achievement,  attain 
truth  through  freedom  restrained  only  by  mastery  of  modeling 
and  line.  Racially  they  are  a  mixture  of  primitive  Mediter- 
raneans, Danubean  invaders  and  Alpines,  but  slavery  has  limited 
hybridizing,  and  (it  appears)  more  strictly  in  democratic  Athens 


76      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

than  in  aristocratic  Sparta.1  Their  armies  are  small  and  local 
but  valorous.  The  Athenian  navy  is  a  formidable  arm.  The 
East  fails  to  invade  European  Greece ;  Carthage  invades  Italy  but 
is  expelled.  These  are  visible  features  (we  are  not  heeding  now 
the  processes)  of  the  Peninsular  Civilization  of  the  North  Medi- 
terranean area.  Athens  tries  to  make  it  imperial  but  is  unsuc- 
cessful. Macedon  succeeds,  but  her  empire  is  short-lived.  Rome 
builds  an  empire  geographically  coextensive  with  Europe  south 
of  the  Rhine  and  the  Danube,  with  Northeastern  Africa  and  with 
Asia  Minor.  In  more  than  a  figurative  sense  it  is  "built."  Ex- 
cellent roads  provide  a  means  of  internal  mobilization  and  com- 
munication never  before  equaled.  The  possibilities  of  the  arch 
are  developed  in  bridge  building  and  in  the  construction  of  aque- 
ducts, by  which  for  the  first  time  town  dwellers  are  supplied  with 
an  abundance  of  pure  water.  This  empire  endures  nearly  half  a 
millennium. 

Rome  and  the  Romanized  populations  of  her  provinces,  a  partly 
hybridized  commingling  of  Mediterraneans,  Danubeans  and  Al- 
pines, are  overrun  by  European  Nordics,  principally  Baltics. 
Most  of  them  are  inlanders  of  the  forests.  They  build  boldly  of 
timber  but  not  of  stone,  and  know  nothing  of  engineering  or  of 
the  finer  arts.  As  invaders  they  burn  and  raze.  Establishing 
themselves  in  overlordship,  they  roughly  reorganize  an  existing 
serfdom,  extending  it  and  increasing  the  severity  of  obligatory 
services.  Taught  and  aided  by  artisans  of  the  old  order,  now 
under  duress  and  robbed  of  all  but  traditions  and  skill,  they  build 
strongholds  and  presently  castles  of  stone,  from  which  they  wage 
wars  of  pillage  upon  one  another.  Converted  to  Romanized 
Christianity,  they  build  monastic  houses  and  churches.  About 
churches  and  castles  villages  of  craftsmen  and  laborers  grow  up, 
but  merchants  are  few,  and  imported  goods  all  but  unknown : 

1  Greek  democracy  was  infra-  not  inter-eihnic,  and  the  argument  of  the 
indiscriminatists  that  panmixia  in  Athens  begot  the  most  brilliant  race  of 
men  in  history  suffers  from  the  militating  circumstance  that  the  premise 
is  not  true.  LaRue  Van  Hook  has  shown  in  The  Classical  Journal,  May, 
1919,  that  Athenian  democracy  was  more  than  the  internal  equality  (and 
clique  warfare)  of  a  social  "four  hundred";  nevertheless,  Galton's  guess 
that  Greek  genius  was  a  product  of  early  and  prolonged  inbreeding  by 
aristocratic  clans  is  probably  the  best  one  ever  made.  In  Sparta,  by  all 
accounts,  there  was  panmixia,  the  details  of  which  may  be  left  to  feminist 
literature. 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  77 

orderly  trade  has  been  destroyed.  Almost  the  only  contacts  with 
the  East  are  through  missionaries  from  Rome  and  pilgrims  to 
Jerusalem.  Nevertheless,  in  ecclesiastical  establishments  and  in 
guilds  of  artisans  reminiscences  of  Latin  civilization  survive  and 
presently  ameliorate  somewhat  the  struggle  for  existence  and  the 
manners  of  the  time.  So  arises  an  isolated  civilization  of  Inland 
Western  Europe,  a  grotesque  reaction  of  barbarism  to  the  Medi- 
terranean heritage.  For  centuries  it  is  politically  incoherent  and 
intellectually  barren  until,  alarmed  by  Saracen  intrusion,  it  rallies 
about  Charles  Martel  and  the  way  is  opened  for  Charlemagne. 
Horizons  now  are  widened.  The  Mediterranean  resurges  upon 
the  Baltic,  and  when,  at  length,  the  daring  of  the  North  and  the 
intelligence  of  the  South  are  mingled,  their  product  is  the  match- 
less beauty,  the  wonder  and  the  glory  of  Gothic  art. 

Looking  back  for  a  moment  upon  the  migrations  from  which 
this  unique  civilization  dates,  we  note  that  not  literally  all  of 
the  participants  are  inlanders.  A  fringe  of  them,  dwelling  upon 
dismal  northwestern  coasts,  fog-hidden  and  forbidding,  are  fisher- 
men and  sailors.  They  can  fashion  keels  as  well  as  rafters. 
They,  too,  feel  the  wanderlust,  but  from  Denmark  they  turn  their 
faces  west.  The  tempestuous  North  Sea  calls  them.  They  voy- 
age to  Iceland  and  the  British  coasts.  They  conquer  Britain  and 
possess  it.  Kindred  Norsemen  voyage  to  the  coasts  of  Gaul, 
there  to  become  Normans  and  in  their  turn  to  conquer  an  incom- 
pletely Anglicized  Britain.  In  the  Mediterranean,  also,  sea-faring 
traditions  persist,  and  in  the  ports  of  Italy,  of  Southern  France 
and  of  Spain  the  race  of  sailor  men  is  not  extinct.  Communica- 
tion between  East  and  West  is  slowly  reestablished.  The  knowl- 
edge of  geography,  of  mathematics  and  of  navigation,  that  Egyp- 
tians, Cretans,  Greeks  and  Romans  possessed,  is  recovered,  and 
is  disseminated  among  seafarers  of  the  West.  Trade  with  the 
East  is  unsettled,  its  ways  are  changing  and  its  possibilities  are 
multiplying.  Christian  crusaders  take  Jerusalem  from  the  Infidel 
but  are  unable  to  hold  it,  and  fail  to  break  through  to  the  East. 
An  ocean  way  may  be  found.  Voyages  become  longer  and  more 
daring.  Canaries  and  Azores  are  left  behind.  The  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  is  rounded.  Dutch  and  English,  French,  Portuguese  and 
Spaniards  become  maritime  peoples  and  discoverers.  The  At- 


78       STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

lantic  Ocean  is  crossed  by  an  Italian  backed  by  Spanish  royal 
power  and  money.  The  Pacific  Ocean  is  discovered  from  the 
West.  The  earth  is  circumnavigated.  Europe  explores  and 
colonizes  a  Western  Hemisphere.  Ocean-fronting  Nations,  de- 
limiting their  boundaries  and  organizing  themselves  politically, 
create  by  ocean-borne  commerce  a  civilization  of  the  world. 

In  the  play  of  History  the  dramatis  persona  are  not  only  in- 
dividuals ;  they  are  also  groups  of  individuals  and*  multitudes. 
These  act  as  units,  and  as  characters  they  have  moral  and  intel- 
lectual unity.  Yet  always  they  are  groups  and  multitudes. 

Again,  more  often  than  not  a  scene  in  history  is  repeated  in 
various  places  and  with  variations  before  the  next  scene  in 
dramatic  order  is  enacted;  and  always  an  entire  act  is  repeated. 
Act  two  (mediaeval  history)  is  a  repetition  of  act  one  (ancient 
history),  with  variations.  Act  three  (modern  history)  is  a  repe- 
tition of  act  two,  again  with  variations.  This  is  the  basis  of  fact 
for  the  saying  that  "history  repeats  itself." 

At  Memphis  a  company  of  priests  marches  solemnly  in  pro- 
cessional. They  proclaim  themselves  Masters  of  Mysteries  and 
Men  of  Vision.  They  have  been  instructed  in  the  wisdom  of 
the  past;  they  foresee  the  future.  They  know  what  signs  pres- 
age abundance  and  famine,  what  conduct  of  man  pollutes  and 
what  cleanses  the  sources  and  streams  of  life.  Now  they  warn 
the  people  of  impending  peril.  Boatmen  from  the  south,  con- 
firming rumors  that  for  months  have  passed  from  lip  to  lip, 
have  reported  abominations.  Dwellers  up  the  river,  corrupted 
by  too  much  contact  with  heathens  beyond  the  Cataracts,  have 
adopted  strange  rites,  not  to  be  described.  They  have  defiled 
sacred  places  and  killed  sacred  animals.  Warnings  have  multi- 
plied. Thousands  of  ibexes  have  died.  Dead  crocodiles  float 
by.  The  river  itself  has  an  unusual  and  sinister  look;  many 
persons  have  observed  it.  Already,  perhaps,  the  Valley,  and 
the  Delta  too,  lie  under  a  curse.  Pestilences  and  more  dreadful 
plagues  may  stalk  the  streets  tomorrow. 

The  people  clamor  for  action.  The  King  has  had  dreams  and 
is  impressed.  Soldiers  are  assembled  and  mobilized.  A  defensive- 
offensive  expedition  sets  forth.  The  land  must  be  purified. 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY 


79 


Skirmishes  become  battles  and  battles  wars,  which  recur. 

The  curtain  falls  on  United  Egypt;  but  the  priests  are  not 
as  happy  as  they  were.  The  army  has  become  arrogant.  The 
people  never  tire  of  cheering  it,  and  sometimes  the  King  defers 
to  it,  instead  of  to  the  priests.1 

A  later  scene,  perhaps  a  variant  of  this  one,  or  it  may  be  a 
second,  is  set  in  Sumer. 

Caravans  from  the  Crescent  bring  disquieting  tidings.  Suc- 
cessive droughts  have  parched  the  oases  and  dried  wells  never 
before  known  to  fail.  Even  in  the  wadys  of  the  West-Arabian 
mountains  crops  have  failed,  and  cattle  by  thousands  have  died. 
Tribes  of  Semites,  apparently  migrating,  have  been  seen  moving 
eastward,  a  fierce  and  uncouth  rabble.  Companies  of  armed 
strangers,  a  vanguard  perhaps,  have  been  in  the  Plain  of  Shinar 
but  have  disappeared.  They  were  thought  to  be  from  the  desert. 
The  older  camel  men,  however,  recall  that  Semitic  nomads  have 
been  herding  in  Mesopotamia  time  out  of  mind,  "always,"  some 
say,  but  others  deny  this,  asserting  that  all  Semites  were  oasis 
men  once,  or,  more  likely,  wady  men.  Either  way,  they  have  been 
rovers  apart  in  petty  groups,  and  beyond  stealing  cattle  or  looting 
a  village  now  and  then,  harmless  enough.  Yet  nobody  knows 
how  many  of  them  could  come  together  in  a  round-up,  or  what 
might  happen  if  the  devil  got  into  them. 

It  happens.  That  pillar  of  dust  on  the  western  sky  was  not 
caravan  dirt  this  time;  but  the  warning  was  too  short.  Wave 
upon  wave,  countless,  tumultuous,  the  Semites  come,  spearmen 
and  swordsmen,  frenzied  as  charging  cattle,  and  as  resistless.  Ur 
is  theirs.  Eridu  falls  before  them.  Nippur  will  be  theirs,  and 
Babylon. 

Now  let  us  drop  the  figure  of  the  play  and  more  simply  sum- 
marize action,  from  this  point  on. 

Two  tremendous  movements  surge  upon  each  other  while 
sweeping  onward  together.  One  is  the  group  struggle  for  do- 
minion and  subsistence.  The  other  is  the  class  struggle  for 

1  The  certified  records  on  which  I  should  have  been  glad  to  base  my 
reconstruction  of  this  scene  have  unfortunately  not  been  found !  Never- 
theless, historical  friends  will  grant,  I  hope,  that  my  imagination  has  not 
run  quite  wild  in  the  suggested  explanation  of  rudimentary  political 
integration  and  the  beginnings  of  class  struggle. 


8o      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

ascendancy  and  revenue.  These  two  movements  begin  with 
history.  They  are  the  action  of  history. 

Climatic  crises,1  exhaustion  of  resources,  diminishing  returns 
and  other  circumstantial  pressures  cause  migrations,  in  which 
populations  clash.  The  issue  is  life  or  death.  Groups  confed- 
erate for  defense;  by  conquest  they  are  consolidated.  They  are 
compounded  and  recompounded.  They  integrate  and  are  in- 
tegrated. 

Military  leaders,  selected  and  developed  by  war,  become  pow- 
erful politicians  if  war  continues  or  often  recurs,  and  army 
officers  become  a  class,  as  "class  conscious"  as  the  priesthood. 
They  contest  the  ascendancy  of  the  priests.  The  struggle  is 
long  and  bitter.  The  priesthood  is  jealous  and  alarmed.  The 
army  is  envious  and  aggressive.  The  army  has  booty  and  land 
to  divide,  but  it  wants  to  be  assured  of  supernatural  sanction. 
Above  all,  being  new,  it  wants  to  become  respectable.  The 
priesthood  has  traditions  and  form.  It  can  make  things  right 
with  unseen  powers,  or  wrong.  It  can  confer  respectability,  or 
withhold  it. 

The  possibilities  of  the  situation  are  not  obscure,  and  when 
priests  and  soldiers  both  grow  weary  of  strife,  an  understanding 
is  arrived  at  which  royalty,  properly  instructed,  consents  to  and 
decrees.  Distinguished  priests  are  "let  in"  on  the  ground  floor 
of  the  New  Privilege.  They  receive  lands  and  revenues.  Dis- 
tinguished soldiers  are  vouched  for  as  divinely  guided,  and  get 
invitations  thenceforth  to  convocations.  So  (historically)  are 
begotten  "lords  temporal"  and  "lords  spiritual,"  and  both  kinds 
are  landlords ! 

Old  groups  of  land-owning  kinsmen,  and  individual  land  own- 
ers, if  they  are  fortunate,  become  free  tenants.  An  increasing 
number  of  these,  if  the  times  favor,  become  merchants.  Old 
communities  of  dependents  continue  to  be  serfs.  Artisans,  if 
fortunate,  become  free  tenants  and  enjoy  guild  privileges.  If 
merchants  prosper,  they  become  class  conscious  (as  the  soldiers 

1  Most  fateful  of  all,  short  of  a  far-extending  glaciation,  has  been  "the 
pulse  of  Asia,"  an  alternating  irrigation  and  dessication  of  regions  east 
of  the  Caspian  Sea,  as  the  snow-fall  on  the  mountain  systems  is 
rhythmically  heavy  and  light;  See  Huntington,  The  Pulse  of  Asia, 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  81 

did),  and  intimations  of  a  new  class  struggle — between  merchants 
and  landlords — appear. 

From  the  morning  of  history  in  Egypt  and  Sumer  until  Jus- 
tinian's reign,  group  integration  is  almost  continuous,  and  the 
class  struggle  is  taken  up  by  successive  classes.  In  the  Medi- 
terranean Island  area,  as  in  the  river  valleys  of  the  Southeastern 
area,  in  the  West-Asian  uplands  and  in  the  North  'Mediterranean 
peninsulas  chieftaincies  become  kingdoms,  and  kingdoms  empires. 
Priests  yield  to  soldiers.  Priests  and  military  adventurers,  in- 
venting the  "gentlemen's  agreement,"  become  landlords.  Land- 
lords lay  field  to  field,  but  the  merchants,  amassing  wealth,  prepare 
to  contest  ascendancy. 

Then  there  is  a  break.  The  empire  collapses.  Act  one  of  a 
drama  has  closed.  Ancient  history  ends,  and  mediaeval  history 
begins.  The  cycle  of  group  and  class  struggle  starts  anew. 

A  new  religion  has  arisen  and  a  new  priesthood.  From  the 
death  of  Constantine  in  337  its  divine  authority  is  conceded. 
At  the  birth  of  Charlemagne  in  742  its  social  ascendancy  is 
complete  and  unquestioned.  But  the  northward  thrust  of  the 
Moors  and  their  repulsion  has  set  going  changes  that  will  com- 
pel it  to  fight  for  its  prestige.  A  new  militarism  grows  pro- 
digiously under  Charlemagne  and  his  successors.  Unwittingly 
the  Church  abets  it  by  demanding  that  the  Holy  Land,  be 
"purified"  from  Islam.  Crusading  barons  become  more  powerful 
than  titular  princes,  and  their  followers  become  armies.  They 
make  their  own  terms  with  bishops.  The  Holy  Roman  Empire 
and  the  Bishops  of  Rome  both  assert  "sovereignty,"  but  in  the 
end  the  inevitable  bargain  is  struck.  A  new  and  overpowering 
landlordism  is  created.  Bishops  and  barons  become  "peers." 

The  ablest  of  them,  William  of  Normandy,  with  the  intellectual 
and  ecclesiastical  aid  of  Lanfranc  (whom  William,  after  quar- 
reling with  for  opposing  the  ducal  marriage  to  Matilda,  has  made 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury),  creates  out  of  English  chaos  the  first 
politically  sovereign  western  nation,  by  reorganizing  the  relations 
between  feudal  society  and  monarchy  and  putting  monarchy  in- 
disputably on  top.  Under  his  incompetent  successors  the  barons 
get  on  top  and  resolve  society  into  anarchy.  Henry  II,  instituting 
scutage  and  the  assize  of  arms  and  thereby  making  royal  revenues 


82      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

and  the  army  semi-independent  of  baronial  favor,  and  subordinat- 
ing ecclesiastical  to  civil  courts,  lifts  monarchy  from  personal  rule 
to  trusteeship  for  a  nation.  So  begins  a  struggle  as  sharp  and 
distinctive  as  any  struggle  between  group  and  group  or  between 
class  and  class;  a  struggle,  namely,  between  an  integral  group — 
the  nation — and  whatever  class  is  ascendant.  The  first  clash  is 
disastrous,  for  again  the  barons  get  on  top,  and  society  disin- 
tegrates. Group  and  class  struggles  revert  to  beginnings,  and 
mediaeval  history  ends. 

Mediterranean  Christianity  came  to  birth  among  humble  folk 
inclined  to  communism,  and  was  adopted  by  the  great  when  they 
saw  its  stupendous  possibilities  as  an  agency  of  social  control. 
The  more  carefully  the  origins  of  Northwestern  Christianity, 
otherwise  Protestantism,  are  studied,  the  more  nearly  certain  it 
appears  that  these  are  not  so  much  a  vision  or  a  hope  of  the 
miserable,  whether  docile  or  rebellious,  as  an  assertion  of  per- 
sonal independence  by  men  self-reliant  and  self-respecting,  al- 
though poor.  Therefore,  while  in  substance  of  theology  this 
religion  of  the  individual  conscience  is  not  new,  and  as  rebellion 
against  authority  is  schism,  as  reaction  to  life  it  is  a  new  faith, 
engendered  by  new  actualities  of  the  struggle  for  existence.  That 
fourteenth-century  "Poor  Richard,"  William  Langland,  the  per- 
sistent Wyclif  and  the  fiery  Huss  are  all,  in  their  different  ways, 
true  exponents  of  its  spirit.  And  this  is  why,  notwithstanding 
the  doings  at  Constance  and  at  Basle,  its  ministry  does  not  become 
a  priesthood. 

Nevertheless,  with  this  spirit,  with  this  new  faith  and  its  min- 
istry, modern  history  begins — in  the  fourteenth  century.  The 
group  and  the  class  struggles  of  ancient  and  of  mediaeval  history 
are  recapitulated,  but,  as  always,  with  variations.  A  new  mili- 
tarism, developed  by  the  Hundred  Years  War,  uses  gunpowder. 
A  new  landlordism  is  sustained  by  money  rents  instead  of  by 
feudal  services,  and  this  time  the  part  played  by  religion  in  the 
class  struggle  is  new.  The  Protestant  ministry  is  not  yet  socially 
ascendant,  and  not  strong  enough  to  exact  privileges.  Moreover, 
it  has  been  recruited  chiefly  from  commoners  and  the  lesser  gentry, 
and  its  individualism  is  "middle-class."  Therefore  it  allies  itself 
with  the  merchants  and  becomes  a  factor  in  the  incipient  class 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  83 

struggle  between  them  and  the  landlords.  The  major  alliance, 
accordingly,  is  between  landlordism  and  the  older  ecclesiasticism, 
and  the  major  intra-group  struggle  is  between  this  combination 
and  the  nationalistic  monarchy.  It  ends  (except  for  brief  re- 
crudescence under  Mary  and  again  under  the  Stuarts)  in  the  firm 
establishment  of  nationalism  and  the  ascendancy  of  Protestantism 
under  Henry  VIII. 

Now,  at  last,  class  struggle  between  merchants  and  landlords 
assumes  full  proportions  and  (without  violence,  however)  in- 
tensity. Voyages  of  discovery  open  new  and  unprecedented 
opportunities,  and  merchant  adventurers  become  men  of  power. 
But,  like  the  soldiery  of  earlier  times,  they  crave  and  demand 
full  social  recognition.  They  can  make  terms,  and  the  bargain 
is  struck.  Great  merchants  are  admitted  to  the  peerage,  and 
by  marriage  (and  otherwise)  peers  in  need  of  revenue  acquire 
wealth.  A  capitalist  class  is  created. 

So  modern  history  arrives  at  noon.  Capitalism  exploits  in- 
vention and  revolutionizes  industry.  A  wage-earning  proleta- 
riat, descended  from  emancipated  serfs,  becomes  in  its  turn 
"class  conscious,"  and  Karl  Marx  makes  the  epochal  discovery 
that  class  struggle  impends — in  history ! 

The  creative  efforts  of  history  are  concentrated  upon  one  com- 
prehensive achievement,  which  is,  attainment  of  a  preferred  way 
of  living.  The  means  of  attainment  are  culture  and  a  social 
order.  Culture  includes  taste,  a  standard  of  living,  knowledge 
and  skill.  A  social  order  is  a  system  of  pluralistic  habits,  rela- 
tionships and  policies.  Prehistory  gropes,  perceives,  tries,  learns 
and  with  infinite  patience  practices.  It  creates  the  elements  of 
culture  and  primitive  social  systems.  History  scrutinizes,  criti- 
cizes, rejects,  selects,  conserves,  changes,  adds,  combines,  reforms, 
revolutionizes  and  reconstructs.1 

The  history  of  culture  no  less  than  the  history  of  action,  is  a 
story  of  strife.  The  New  has  fought  with  the  Old  for  its  life. 
Instinct,  habit,  taste,  sentiment  and  vested  interests  have  rallied 

1The  study  of  history  as  achievement  (history  as  scenario,  play  and 
story  being  presupposed)  is  the  study  of  the  History  of  Civilization,  a 
specialist's  task,  demanding  among  other  qualifications  a  sociologist's 
knowledge  of  social  systems. 


about  the  Old.  Experimental  drive,  cleanliness,  convenience, 
comfort,  health,  enterprise,  prosperity  have  been  identified  with 
the  New. 

The  Old  has  not  been  content  to  conserve  its  own :  it  has  tried 
to  strangle  the  New  at  birth.  Therefore  the  conflict  between  the 
two  has  been  a  war  for  the  right  of  achievement  to  survive;  to 
live  on  as  the  Old,  to  be  born  and  to  carry  on  as  the  New.  Civi- 
lization exists  because  neither  the  Old  nor  the  New  has  been  able 
to  do  its  instinctive  or  its  premeditated  worst  against  the  other. 

More  than  those  things  that  constitute  heritage  (of  which 
mention  was  made)  has  been  at  stake.  Heredity  has  been  at 
stake.  The  intellectualized  variety  of  man  (irrespective  of  race) 
has  been  subjected  to  an  artificial  selection  as  fateful  as  natural 
selection.  Where  innovation  is  not  permitted,  experimental  in- 
tellect cannot  leave  posterity. 

Our  knowledge  of  the  origin,  structure  and  functioning,  and 
of  the  transformation  of  social  systems,  is  largely  a  scientific  in- 
duction. 

There  are  surviving  examples  of  social  systems  that  never 
have  produced  and  that  will  not  leave  a  written  history.  They 
have  been  much  observed,  fortunately,  by  ethnologists;  and  pos- 
sibly they  may  so  far  be  neglected  by  powerful  peoples  bent  on 
cleaning  up  dirty  neighbors  that  they  can  be  studied  a  generation 
or  so  longer.  Social  systems  now  extinct  were  observed  and 
described  in  antiquity,  not,  indeed,  with  scientific  precision,  but 
often  shrewdly  and  with  approximate  accuracy.  The  social 
systems  of  prehistoric  men  we  imperfectly  reconstruct  from 
archaeological  and  philological  fragments,  supplemented  by  folk 
ways  and  folk  lore  that  survived  into  historical  days.  This  evi- 
dence, as  far  as  it  goes,  is  often  worth  more  than  chronicles,  since 
it  is  without  bias,  and  came  into  existence  without  conscious  in- 
tent to  impress  posterity.  All  of  these  systems,  extinct  and  sur- 
viving, that  did  not  and  do  not  leave  written  annals,  we  describe 
collectively  as  primitive  social  systems. 

By  comparison  with  the  highly  complex  social  systems  that  we 
know  today  primitive  social  systems  are  almost  incredibly  simple ; 
but  some  of  them  are  less  simple  than  others.  There  is  a  sue- 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  85 

cession  of  types,  each  of  which  is  associated  with  a  characteristic 
situation  or  habitat. 

First  in  time  and  simplest  in  structure  is  a  social  system  of 
the  forest  habitat  and  the  bush.  In  its  rudimentary  form  it  is  a 
small  horde  or  camp  or  a  cluster  of  neighboring  and  more  or  less 
communicating  hordes,  in  none  of  which  more  than  twenty  to 
fifty  individuals,  men,  women  and  children,  can  be  counted.  This 
group  knows  nothing  of  blood  relationships,  or  it  ignores  them; 
it  coheres  by  instinct  and  habit. 

Within  it,  however,  arise  ideas  of  mysterious  influences  and 
relationships.  Various  things  and  kinds  of  things  are  believed 
to  have  an  uncanny  power  to  harm  or  to  benefit.  "It,"  for  so 
more  often  than  not  the  mysterious  power  is  referred  to,  can 
cause  good  or  bad  luck ;  it  can  pollute ;  it  can  cause  sickness,  and 
it  can  kill,  or  it  can  cleanse  and  heal;  it  is  contagious,  passing 
from  object  to  object  or  from  person  to  person  by  contact.  It  is 
"mana"  or  "virtue";  it  is  demoniac  power.  Whatever  holds 
or  imparts  purifying  and  healing  mana  is  sacred ;  whatever  holds 
or  imparts  defiling  and  evil  mana  is  accursed.  There  are  ways  of 
banning  evil  mana  and  of  conserving  good  mana.  These  rituals 
as  much  as  habits  of  camping  and  wandering  together,  are  group 
ways ;  they  are  modes  of  pluralistic  behavior  in  distinction  from 
individual  behavior.  In  each  group  they  are  more  or  less  peculiar. 
They  are,  therefore,  a  collective  interest  and  bond  supplementing 
mere  animal  gregariousness,  including  its  reactions  to  cries  and 
calls.  They  are  a  distinctly  human  interest  and  bond. 

Out  of  these  ideas  and  practices  totemism  emerges,  and  pres- 
ently appear  more  complicated  relationships  identified  with  it. 
These  get  mixed  up  with  natural  relationships,  which  thereby 
become  distorted  and  conventionalized.  There  results  a  social 
system  of  inclusions  and  exclusions,  based  on  a  recognition  of 
descent  in  one  line  only.  A  matrilineal  and  matronymic  system 
is  in  general  more  primitive  than  a  patrilineal  and  patronymic 
system.  How  far  the  cavern  people  of  the  Reindeer  Age  had 
advanced  in  these  matters  we  do  not  know. 

The  social  system  of  the  grass-lands  has  become  or  is  becoming 
patrilineal ;  but  it  carries  along  many  survivals  of  totemism  and  of 


86      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

matrilineal  relationship.1  Ideas  of  ghosts  and  ghost  worship  have 
appeared,  and  out  of  them  ancestor  worship  develops.  Paternal 
power  and  authority  have  superseded  the  authority  that  maternal 
uncles  exercised  in  matrilineal  society,  and  the  family  group, 
cohering  for  more  than  one  generation,  often  becomes  a  patri- 
archal kindred.  Whether  this  happens  or  not,  the  patrilineal 
system  has  the  great  advantage  that  the  fighting  men  of  any  con- 
siderable aggregation  are  of  one  conventional  kindred,  instead  of 
being,  as  in  matrilineal  society,  of  as  many  different  conventional 
kindreds  as  they  have  totemic  or  clan  mothers. 

On  the  grass-lands  appears  also  in  the  course  of  time  a  new 
social  system  as  distinctive  as  systems  based  on  conventionalized 
kinship  are,  or  as  the  earliest  ritualistic  system  was  by  comparison 
with  an  animal  herd.  It  is  based  on  an  understanding  between  a 
luckless  individual  needing  protection  and  a  man  powerful  enough 
to  protect  him.  In  primitive  society  men  get  "kin  wrecked"  in 
many  ways.  Because  of  their  own  misdeeds  they  are  banished 
from  clan  or  village,  or  the  groups  in  which  they  were  born  are 
plundered  and  broken  in  war.  Other  men,  a  smaller  number, 
become  powerful  as  successful  leaders  in  war  or  when,  in  recog- 
nition of  one  or  another  service  to  the  group,  they  are  permitted 
to  possess  an  exceptionally  large  share  of  booty  or  otherwise  to 
become  rich.2  In  the  grass-lands  ruined  men  take  service  and 
receive  protection  as  cowboys  under  cattle  owners  strong  and 
self-assertive  enough  to  break  folkway  rules  and  override  the 
rights  of  fellow  tribesmen.  In  the  Brehon  Laws  of  Ireland,  where 
the  grass-land  life  survived  until  comparatively  late  times,  we  have 
the  picture  of  a  society  organized  partly  as  a  holdover  tribal 
system  and  partly  as  allegiance  and  service  rendered  to  a  pro- 
tecting chieftain.3 

The  social  system  of  primitive  agricultural  communities  is  a 
medley  and  compromise  of  survivals  rather  than  a  new  type. 

1  Robertson  Smith,  Kinship  and  Marriage  in  Early  Arabia. 

'  The  evidences  brought  together  by  Robert  Lowie  in  Primitive  Society 
that  private  property  and  inequalities  of  private  property  exist  in  primitive 
societies  of  every  cultural  grade  and  in  every  part  of  the  world  have 
disposed  of  a  long  controversy,  to  the  lasting  discomfiture  of  propagandist 
vendors  of  primitive  communism. 

1  Henry  Sumner  Maine,  Lectures  on  the  Early  History  of  Institutions. 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  87 

Kinship  is  cognatic  as  far  as  recognition  of  relationship  by  both 
mother  and  father  goes,  but  is  usually  patronymic.  A  kindred 
may  cohere  as  a  local  group  and  hold  land  as  an  undivided  pos- 
session for  four  generations,  and,  as  was  mentioned  on  a  fore- 
going page,  it  may  stand  in  the  relation  of  protector  to  a  hetero- 
geneous group  of  dependents.  Within  the  kindred  itself  inequali- 
ties of  rank  and  of  condition  exist  and  are  recognized;  among 
the  dependents  they  are  not  permitted.1 

Survivals  of  all  primitive  systems,  namely,  those  based  on  re- 
ligious solidarity  and  ritual,  those  based  on  a  conventionalized 
kinship  and  those  based  on  beneficium  et  commendatio,  are  numer- 
ous in  present-day  societies.  The  most  interesting  ones,  perhaps, 
are  found  in  such  laws  of  nationality  as  the  jus  sanguinis  and  the 
sacramentum  fidelitatis,  whereby  a  claim  to  citizenship  rests,  in 
one  case,  on  the  citizenship  of  a  parent,  and,  in  another  case,  on 
an  oath  of  allegiance  to  a  sovereign. 

All  the  social  systems  of  civilized  peoples,  whether  ancient  or 
modern,  are  variants  of  a  fourth  general  type.  Indeed,  in  the 
strict  etymological  meaning  of  the  word,  civilization  is  the  super- 
seding of  tribal  by  civil  society.  Within  the  city  aliens  congregate 
and  prosper  until  it  becomes  necessary  to  admit  them  to  privileges 
and  to  impose  upon  them  such  fundamental  obligations  as  tax 
paying  and  military  service.  After  much  experimenting  they  are 
naturalized,  that  is  to  say,  by  a  legal  fiction  they  are  made  of  one 
kindred  with  the  older  stock.2  The  basis  of  this  system  is  mutu- 
ality of  opportunity  and  of  obligation. 

The  historical  variates  of  this  general  type  are  familiar  and 
need  not  detain  us  longer  than  is  necessary  to  make  essential 
discriminations  and  to  point  out  their  relation  to  group  and  class 
struggles. 

Society  is  an  aristocracy  as  long  as  opportunity,  although 
shared,  is  not  equalized,  and  control  is  retained  by  a  privileged 
class,  qualified  by  ability  and  experience  to  govern  in  the  ad- 
ministrative sense  of  the  word,  but  not  by  unselfishness  to  rule 

1  Frederic  Seebohm,  The  Tribal  System  in  Wales;  and  Hugh  Seebohm, 
The  Structure  of  Greek  Tribal  Society. 

2  The  Constitution  of  Athens ,  discovered  by  Dr.   Budge  and  by  him 
attributed  to  Aristotle. 


88      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

arbitrarily  over  fellow  men.  Society  is  a  plutocracy  as  long  as 
opportunity,  although  shared,  is  not  equalized,  and  control  is 
held  by  a  capitalist  class.  Society  is  a  kakistocracy  as  long  as 
opportunity,  although  proclaimed  to  all,  is  not  equalized  in  fact, 
and  control  is  exercised  by  a  dictating  minority,  undisciplined  and 
ignorant,  that  has  seized  power  by  revolutionary  violence.  So- 
ciety is  a  democracy  if  opportunity  is  equalized  and  control, 
although  not  equalized  (a  thing  impossible),  is  shared.  Democ- 
racy is  communistic  if  property  is  equalized  and  occupation  is 
prescribed.  Democracy  is  socialistic  if  property  in  major  part  is 
held  collectively  and  occupation  is  prescribed.  Democracy  is 
individualistic  if  property  in  major  part  is  held  individually  but 
is  subject  to  prescribed  obligations  and  limitations,  and  if  occupa- 
tion is  freely  chosen  by  individuals  but,  like  property,  is  subject 
to  prescribed  obligations  and  limitations.  The  distinction  be- 
tween democracy  and  all  other  social  systems  is  radical.  In  a 
democracy  control  is  participated  in  although  never  equally  exer- 
cised by  all  members  of  society  instead  of  being  monopolized  by 
any  group  or  calling,  and,  consequently,  integral  society  dominates 
over  all  its  component  groups,  constituent  classes,  callings,  fac- 
tions, parties  and  miscellaneous  minorities. 

Without  specialized  callings  and  segregations,  differentially 
functioning,  society  is  primitive  and  negligible;  it  can  achieve 
nothing;  and  yet  from  the  moment  that  differentiation  of  a  popu- 
lation into  variously  functioning  callings  or  segregations  begins, 
class  struggle  rages.  A  dominant  minority  or  majority  rules  as 
nearly  absolutely  as  it  can.  Revolution  overthrows  it,  destroying 
in  its  leveling  violence  so  much  of  the  functioning  social  organiza- 
tion that  prosperity  cannot  return,  or  achievement  proceed,  until 
differentially  functioning  fractions,  specialized  and  unequal,  are 
recreated.  Democracy  is  an  attempt  to  equilibrate  energies  in  a 
less  costly  way.  Communistic  and  socialistic  democracies  err  by 
equalizing  too  much  and  restraining  too  much.  Anarchistic  in- 
dividualism errs  by  permitting  excessive  inequalities  and  restrain- 
ing too  little.  Between  these  extremes  are  possibilities  of  a  more 
delicate  equilibration  in  a  Socialized  Individualism  acting  through 
unstable  majorities  subject  at  every  instant  to  possible  disintegra- 
tion and  reformation. 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  89 

It  is  time  to  get  back  to  theory.  I  promised  to  intimate  and 
perhaps  gently  to  argue  an  interpretative  hypothesis  or,  if  the 
phrase  is  not  presumptuous,  a  scientific  explanation  of  history. 
If  any  reader  has  followed  me  so  far,  he  has  already  received 
and  apprehended  the  intimation.  My  argument  will  be  a  gen- 
eralization (without  contention)  from  the  materials  that  have 
been  exhibited. 

Here  let  me  anticipate  and  answer  a  question.  Are  these 
materials  history?  No  and  yes.  Quantitatively  they  are  in- 
finitesimal, but  qualitatively  they  are  bits  picked  out  of  history 
by  a  scientific  test,  namely,  significance.  They  have  indicative 
quality  and  therefore  scientific  value.  They  are  signatures  of 
history. 

More  and  more  our  inductive  science  accumulates  priceless 
knowledge  of  things  (and  events)  in  themselves  inaccessible,  by 
examining  their  marks  or  signatures.  The  astronomer  knows 
the  chemical  composition  of  suns  unimaginably  distant  because 
they  have  made  their  "mark"  in  lines  of  the  spectrum.  No 
physicist  has  seen  an  atom,  but  every  physicist  reads  in  atomic 
signatures  that  it  is  composed  of  positive  and  negative  electrons, 
and  that  the  electrical  charge  of  a  positive  electron  may  be  numeri- 
cally equal  to  the  electrical  charge  of  a  negative  electron,  al- 
though its  mass  is  nearly  two  thousand  times  greater  while  its 
diameter  is  only  one  two  thousandths  as  great.1  The  materials 
from  which  I  am  generalizing  now  are  finger-prints  of  history 
on  the  smoked  glass  of  time. 

The  geographical  theory  of  history  is  true,  as  far  as  it  goes. 
Civilization  arose  in  regions  that  could  sustain  and  energize  dense 
populations.  It  has  never  made  headway  except  in  regions  that 
could  sustain  and  energize  urban  populations.  Throughout  the 
first  nine-tenths  or  more  of  total  historical  time  the  action  of 
history  was  confined  to  the  Mediterranean  Basin.  That  basin 
is  made  up  of  characteristic  areas.  In  each  a  distinctive  civiliza- 
tion arose.  In  each  the  action  and  the  achievements  of  history 
have  been  distinctive.  So  long,  however,  as  physical  environment 
has  remained  stafic  nothing  has  happened.  Only  when  environ- 
mental change  has  created  a  circumstantial  pressure  of  calamities, 

1  MacMillan,  Science,  July  23,  1920. 


90      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

hardships,  contacts,  conflicts  and  rivalries,  has  there  been  col- 
lective human  action  and  with  it  integrations,  differentiations, 
cultural  progress  and  social  evolution. 

The  biological  theory  of  history  is  true,  as  far  as  it  goes.  The 
historical  peoples  have  been  stocks  capable  of  persistent  multipli- 
cation and  at  the  same  time  of  variation  and  longevity.  In  other 
words,  they  have  been  dynamic  stocks.  In  a  struggle  for  exis- 
tence that  has  been  terrible  and  remorseless  they  have  held  their 
own  by  vitality  and  by  adaptability.  Also,  to  an  extent  not  ade- 
quately apprehended,  they  have  been,  unconsciously,  eugenic 
breeders.  By  taboos  and  conventions,  by  pride  and  arrogance 
born  of  success,  and  by  the  social  exclusiveness  of  dominant 
classes,  they  have  restricted  hybridization  and  effectually  pre- 
vented that  miscellaneous  and  general  amalgamation  which  the 
biologists  call  panmixia.  Natural  selection,  therefore,  has  had 
not  only  individuals  but  also  relatively  pure  stirps  to  work  on, 
with  the  inevitable  consequence  that,  through  an  elimination  of 
biologically  inferior  stirps  as  such,  energy,  character  and  intelli- 
gence have  been  conserved  for  generations.  Whether  a  subse- 
quent indiscriminateness  has  now  and  then  caused  national  decline, 
is  a  question  more  difficult  to  answer.  The  one  certainty  is  that, 
irrespective  of  theories,  the  instinct  of  persistently  vigorous  peo- 
ples has  been  against  it,  as  it  is  now  in  England,  Canada,  Aus- 
tralia and  the  United  States. 

True  also,  as  far  as  it  goes,  is  a  psychological  theory  of  his- 
tory that  has  never  yet  been  well  formulated.  It  is  not  well 
described  as  a  theory  of  collective  self-determination,  although 
that  phrase  is  not  wholly  inaccurate.  The  historical  peoples 
have  been  capable  of  imagination  and  of  persistent  exaltation. 
They  have  seen  visions  and  dreamed  dreams.  They  have  been 
aroused  by  enthusiasms.  Much  that  they  have  seen  has  been 
hallucination,  and  often  their  enthusiasm  has  gotten  out  of  hand, 
but  among  their  visions  have  been  discoveries  and  inventions, 
and  among  their  exaltations  have  been  heroic  devotions.  Su- 
preme among  these,  as  a  factor  in  human  achievement,  has  been 
the  devotion  of  a  few  peoples,  of  whom  the  Greeks  were  first  in 
time  and  in  degree,  to  an  intellectualized  civilization. 

An  anthropological  theory  of  history  that  of  late  has  been  a 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  91 

factor  in  world  politics  has  most  mischievously  confounded  bi- 
ological, psychological  and  cultural  facts.  Baltic  stocks  have 
displayed  conquering  energy  and  dominating  will,  but  their  culture 
has  been  derivative.  Wherever  they  have  gone  they  have  mingled 
with  populations  of  predominantly  Mediterranean  characteristics 
and  have  assimilated  a  Mediterranean  culture.  It  is  preposterous 
to  argue  that  the  predominant  part  which  composite  populations 
so  originating  have  played  in  history  should  or  can  be  accounted 
for  by  hybridizing  or  by  Baltic  culture  or  by  Baltic  domination. 
It  can  be  accounted  for  only  as  an  exploitation  of  Mediterranean 
culture  by  Baltic  energy  civilized  by  the  Mediterranean  culture. 
Achievement  is  the  historic  work  of  races  capable  of  ascendancy 
through  culture. 

A  sociological  theory  of  history  might  be  formulated  but  has 
not  been.  The  historical  peoples  most  distinguished  for  achieve- 
ment have  somehow  been  able  more  successfully  than  others  to 
balance  integral  against  partial  interests,  and  individualism  against 
collectivism. 

All  of  these  theories  of  history  are  true,  as  far  as  they  go, 
but  not  one  of  them  accounts  for  history!  One  and  all  they  ac- 
count for  conditions  that  have  shaped  history,  or,  at  best,  have 
made  it  possible.  Not  one  of  them  tells  us  why  it  has  been 
actual. 

For,  when  all  is  said,  history  is  human  behavior.  It  is  a  stream 
of  behavior,  rising  obscurely  in  time,  making  for  itself  a  devious 
channel,  fed  by  countless  tributaries  of  collective  action,  and 
broadly  flowing  now  into  the  mist  that  hides  an  unexplored 
hereafter. 

In  part  the  historic  behavior  of  men  moving  on  together  by 
thousands  and  by  millions  has  been  blindly  instinctive.  In  part 
it  has  been  a  conscious  but  errant  experimentation.  Also  in  part 
(and  increasingly)  it  has  been  an  attempted  and  often  a  successful 
carrying-out  of  premeditated  policies.  These  have  been  made  by 
no  one  man,  and  for  this  reason,  rather  than  for  any  "determin- 
istic" reason,  the  great-man  theory  of  history  breaks  down.  They 
have  arisen  as  visions  in  the  minds  of  the  men  of  vision  and  have 
then  been  taken  over,  with  or  without  acknowledgment,  by  men 
of  action.  To  convert  them  into  collective  behavior  the  men  of 


92       STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

action  have  "interested"  and  enlisted  effective  members  of 
groups,  classes,  factions,  parties,  minorities  and  majorities,  prom- 
ising them  substantial  advantages.  The  combination  has  been  a 
dynamic  plurel:*  a  "gang,"  "ring,"  or  "junto"  bent  on  "going 
somewhere"  or  "doing  something."  Inasmuch  as  it  has  accom- 
plished, first  and  last,  infinitely  more  good  than  evil,  let  us  give  it 
a  dignified  and  suitable  name.  It  has  been  a  Composite  Protago- 
nist. To  an  appreciable  extent  it  has  "made"  history,  proceeding 
deliberately,  and  by  every  art  of  persuasion,  temptation,  bullying 
and  coercion  known  to  man.  It  has  started  wars  and  class  strug- 
gles. It  has  been  self-renewing  until  supplanted  by  a  rival, 
destroyed  by  failure,  subjected  by  conquest  or  deposed  by  revo- 
lution. 

As  participants  in  the  behavior  that  is  history  the  instinctive 
multitudes,  the  errant  experimenters,  the  clear-eyed  and  far- 
seeing  protagonists  of  premeditated  policies  have  had  in  com- 
mon one  trait  besides  their  elemental  human  nature;  or  has  it 
veritably  been  their  human  nature  itself  ?  Either  way,  they  have 
been  of  one  inclusive  kind.  All  have  been  adventurers.  All 
have  felt  an  urge  and  responded  to  it.  They  have  dared  and 
gone  forth.  They  have  listened  to  pipings  and  followed  lures. 
They  have  dug  for  pots  of  gold ;  climbed  purple  mountains.  They 
have  fared  on  pilgrimages  "to  meet  with  joy"  in  any  "sweet 
Jerusalem."  They  have  trekked  and  voyaged;  have  fought,  and 
plundered  and  avenged.  They  have  fashioned  empires  and  dis- 
membered them.  With  infinite  toil  they  have  created  social  order, 
and  in  drunken  deviltry  have  destroyed  it.  They  have  read  the 
stars  and  rent  the  atom. 

History,  then,  is  adventure,  and  the  urge  to  adventure  is  the 
cause  of  history.  This  proposition  is  the  kernel  of  my  theory. 

Enfolding  and  sustaining  it  is  the  coefficient  truth  that  some 
men,  the  daimones  of  our  race,  react  to  the  urge  promptly,  abun- 
dantly, persistently,  effectively,  and  in  doing  so  pour  or  radiate  a 
secondary  or  converted  urge  upon  more  sluggish  men  until  they 
too  react  effectively.  Paradoxically  and  amusingly  this  one 
specific  affirmation  of  inequality  among  men  is  not  denied  by 

*Our  English  derivative  from  pluralis  has  in  usage  an  adjective  value 
only.  Needing  a  noun,  I  fall  back  upon  this  pleasing  old  French  form. 


A  THEORY  OF  HISTORY  93 

egalitarians.  The  wildest  social  lunatic  has  never  imagined,  or 
liar  for  a  holy  cause  averred,  that  as  adventurers  men  are  equal. 
On  the  contrary,  each  is  more  sure  than  of  anything  else  in  life, 
that  he  at  least,  is  an  adventurer  of  parts,  destined  at  some  time 
to  lead  a  multitude  of  small  adventurers — somewhere ! 

In  sum,  and  to  be  severely  scientific  (as  scientific  as  Mr.  Adams 
is)  equilibration  of  the  urge  to  adventure  and  of  reaction  to  it  is 
the  historically  behavioristic  mode  of  the  degradation  of  energy. 

As  far  as  I  can  see  there  is  one  sufficient  reason  for  being  so 
accurate,  and  abbreviate.  It  is  the  short  way  to  get  back  to  his- 
tory as  reality,  concrete  and  alive.  As  reality  history  is  theme 
and  story.  The  theme  is  actuality,  the  story  what  we  make  it. 
Scholarship — a  kind  of  morality — has  corrected  our  story  of 
history  in  point  of  veracity,  and  (so  all  things  work  together  for 
good  to  such  as  love  truth)  amazingly  enriched  it.  Science  has 
discovered  and  revealed  actuality.  Unspoiled  by  knowledge  and 
unharmed  by  understanding,  actuality  is  what  it  was  to  Odysseus 
and  to  Columbus;  story  is  what  it  was  to  Herodotus  and  to 
Froissart.  As  actuality  history  has  been  and  is,  Adventure;  as 
story  it  was  and  is,  and  to  the  end  of  time  will  be,  the  Great 
Romance.1 

1This  chapter  was  in  type  for  publication  in  The  Political  Science 
Quarterly,  before  the  publication  of  Mr.  Wells's  The  Outline  of  History. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   HISTORY   OF  SOCIAL  THEORY 

NEARLY  two  and  a  half  thousand  years  ago  Clinias  the  Cretan, 
Megillus  of  Lacedaemon,  and  their  Athenian  friend,  who,  we 
surmise,  wrote  The  Republic  and  The  Laws,  sauntered  along 
the  way  that  led  from  Knossos  to  the  cavern  temple  of  Zeus. 
Loitering  from  time  to  time  in  the  groves  of  cypress  trees,  they 
discoursed  upon  the  question  whether  from  the  gods,  or  from 
the  merely  finite  minds  of  mortal  though  gifted  men,  have  pro- 
ceeded chiefly  those  customs,  rules,  or  laws  which  are  the  foun- 
dations of  moral  order  in  the  state.  As  their  dialogue  flowed  on, 
it  revealed  a  sophisticated  knowledge  of  affairs  and  a  nicely 
graduated  caution  in  generalization  which  proclaimed  each  one 
of  the  three  to  be  that  rarest  and  most  excellent  of  beings,  the 
philosopher  who  is  also  a  man  of  the  world.  The  vulgar  view 
that  laws  are  a  gift  from  the  gods  they  well  understood ;  and  that 
in  a  sense  it  could  be  accepted  as  true  they  acknowledged.  The 
not  less  vulgar  view  that  the  mortal  lawgiver  has  on  the  whole 
improved  upon  the  lawmaking  of  the  gods,  they  likewise  under- 
stood; and  that  this  view  also  in  a  sense  is  true,  they  acknowl- 
edged no  less  freely.  But  as  they  themselves  viewed  the  compli- 
cated relations  of  man  to  his  fellowman,  his  passions  and  his 
reasoned  purposes,  his  manifold  deeds  of  evil  and  of  good,  and 
called  to  mind  the  varied  plans  of  social  organization  which  they 
had  observed  in  the  city  states  of  their  own  Grecian  world,  they 
for  themselves  interpreted  the  divine  lawgiving  not  as  a  proclama- 
tion from  the  throne  of  Zeus,  but  rather  as  a  certain  objective 
conditioning  of  individual  and  collective  life  by  a  thousand  for- 
tuitous forces  to  which  man  must  accommodate  his  conduct. 
And  the  lawmaking  of  man  they  viewed  as  essentially  the  art  of 
perfecting  this  accommodation  of  human  conduct  to  objective 
facts  and  relations. 

94 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  95 

Their  phrasing  of  this  naturalistic  philosophy  was  simple  and 
straightforward,  and  admitted  of  no  misunderstanding:  "I  was 
about  to  say,"  remarked  the  Athenian,  "that  no  man  is  ever  a 
legislator ;  but  that  fortune  and  all  kinds  of  accidents  happening 
in  all  kinds  of  ways,  are  our  legislators.  For  either  a  war  by 
violence  has  overturned  polities  and  changed  laws,  or  the  want 
of  means  arising  from  severe  poverty.  Many  innovations,  too, 
diseases  compel  men  to  make,  through  pestilences  falling  upon 
them,  and  unfavorable  seasons  through  many  years.  He,  then, 
who  foresees  all  this,  will  be  eager  to  exclaim,  as  I  just  now  did, 
that  no  mortal  man  was  ever  a  legislator,  but  that  nearly  all 
human  affairs  are  accidents.  .  .  .  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  equally 
possible  for  the  person  to  speak  correctly  on  these  points  who 
says  .  .  .  that  although  a  god,  and,  together  with  a  god,  fortune 
and  opportunity,  govern  all  human  affairs;  nevertheless  it  is 
necessary  to  admit  that  art,  a  somewhat  milder  power,  follows 
them."  1 

Thus,  in  the  land  of  the  Gortynian  law,  where  civilization 
millenniums  old  had  begun  perhaps  as  early  as  in  Egypt  or  on 
the  Babylonian  plain,  was  stated  the  profoundest  problem  of 
social  philosophy — may  I  not  say  of  all  philosophy — the  problem 
of  the  interplay  of  human  purpose  with  that  external  fate  which 
we  moderns  call  the  reign  of  natural  law,  the  question  how  far  the 
collective  life  of  man  is  inexorably  determined  by  the  one,  how 
far  from  time  to  time  it  may  be  shaped  anew  by  his  own  clear- 
seeing  reason  and  indomitable  will. 

Before  we  take  up  the  question  how  far  the  solution  of  this 
problem  which  satisfied  those  men  of  Crete,  of  Athens,  and  of 
Lacedsemon,  can  suffice  for  us,  whose  intellectual  standards  have 
been  both  shattered  and  recreated  by  the  new-born  science  of  our 
later  world,  let  us  linger  yet  a  moment  more  on  certain  further 
words  in  which  they  set  their  meaning  forth.  So  strongly  did 
they  hold  that  man  by  constructive  reason  may  create  institutions 
potent  to  perfect  his  life,  that  they  themselves  were  then  devising 
a  body  of  laws  for  an  ideal  commonwealth.  And  yet  they  held 
steadily  before  their  minds  the  truth  that  their  dreamed-of  repub- 
lic, if  it  were  in  fact  to  exist,  must  be  composed  of  certain  nat- 

1  Plato,  The  Laws,  IV,  4. 


96      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

urally  coherent  elements,  and  must  conform  to  unalterable  objec- 
tive requirements.  Once  more  I  quote,  and  again  it  is  the  Athe- 
nian who  speaks : 

"For  when  a  colony  is  of  one  race,  and  has  the  same  language 
and  the  same  laws,  it  possesses  a  kind  of  friendship  as  being  a 
partaker  in  the  same  holy  rites,  and  everything  else  of  a  similar 
kind,  nor  does  it  easily  endure  other  laws,  and  a  polity  foreign  to 
what  it  had  at  home.  .  .  .  But,  on  the  other  hand,  a  colony,  com- 
posed of  all  kinds  of  people  flowing  together  to  the  same  point, 
will  perhaps  be  more  willingly  obedient  to  certain  new  laws ;  but 
to  conspire  together,  and,  like  a  pair  of  horses,  to  froth  together, 
as  the  saying  is,  individually  to  the  same  point,  is  the  work  of  a 
long  time  and  very  difficult."  1 

In  no  later  writing  that  I  know  do  we  find  in  so  few  words 
so  many  cardinal  generalizations  as  these  lines  contain  upon  the 
nature  and  behavior  of  human  society.  They  tell  us,  first,  that 
of  two  familiar  groupings  of  human  beings,  namely,  groupings 
of  kindred,  and  groupings  of  "all  kinds  of  people  flowing  together 
to  the  same  point,"  the  second  or  miscellaneous  grouping  is  no 
less  spontaneous,  no  less  natural,  than  the  first.  Secondly,  they 
tell  us  that  in  the  ethnically  homogeneous  group  there  is  a  psy- 
chological as  well  as  a  physical  unity,  a  sympathy  and  under- 
standing not  to  be  looked  for  in  the  heterogeneous  group.  Never- 
theless, as  thirdly,  they  aver,  not  only  in  the  homogeneous  but 
also  in  the  heterogeneous  group,  notwithstanding  its  defective 
mental  unity,  there  is  a  collective  behavior,  which,  however, — 
and  this  is  generalization  fourth — is  more  slowly  and  with  greater 
difficulty  in  the  miscellaneous  group  raised  to  the  practical  work- 
ing level  of  collective  action  for  the  attainment  of  a  common  end. 
Fifthly,  and  finally,  they  declare  that  innovation — any  voluntary 
breaking  away  from  an  old  order  of  things  to  experiment  with  a 
new — is  more  likely  to  occur  in  the  heterogeneous  than  in  the 
homogeneous  group. 

Two  thousand  years  of  so-called  progress  have  enriched  and 
broadened  knowledge.  They  also  have  multiplied  the  absolute 
number,  possibly  the  relative  number,  of  well-informed  persons. 
They  have  multiplied,  further,  the  relative  as  well  as  the  absolute 

1  Plato,  The  Laws,  IV,  4. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  97 

number  of  scientifically  trained  minds.  That  they  have  evolved 
individual  intellects  of  greater  power  or  of  higher  quality  than 
were  the  best  minds  of  Greece  cannot  be  demonstrated.  That 
they  have  multiplied  the  absolute  number  of  men  of  genius  is 
probable.  That  they  have  multiplied  the  relative  number  of  gifted 
intellects  is  possible,  but  not  certain.  The  civilization  of  Greece, 
in  fine,  was  like  some  marvelous  mutation  in  the  realm  of  organic 
life,  the  advent  of  a  new  and  glorious  creation.  Modern  civiliza- 
tion is  but  the  multiplication  of  its  offspring.  There  has  not  yet 
appeared  a  nobler  type. 

Our  one  undeniable  superiority,  then,  is  a  fact  not  of  inherent 
quality,  but  of  acquisition  merely.  It  is  our  fuller  and  more  ac- 
curate knowledge  and,  underlying  our  knowledge,  our  more  com- 
plex, our  more  rigorous  methods  of  investigation.  It  is,  in  a 
word,  our  science. 

In  the  light  of  our  fuller  knowledge  it  may  be  of  interest  now 
to  reexamine  the  Grecian  conceptions  of  collective  life,  of  the 
nature,  the  origins  and  the  uses  of  society,  as  the  men  of  natural 
science,  on  their  part,  have  reexamined,  corrected  and  restated 
the  Greek  conceptions  of  the  material  world  and  of  individual 
living  things.  Applying  our  stricter  canons  of  scientific  method, 
let  us  raise  anew  the  questions  of  which  Plato  and  his  friends 
discoursed. 

The  continuity  of  all  phenomena,  within  the  limits  at  least  of 
finite  space  and  of  finite  time,  is  the  master  conception  of  our 
modern  thought.  There  is  no  drifting  molecule  of  dust  that  does 
not  beat  with  impulse  from  solar  systems  very  far  away.  There 
is  no  living  thing  that  is  not  related  in  bonds  of  kinship  to  every 
other  living  thing.  There  is  no  conscious  thought  that  has  not  a 
history  which,  if  told,  would  be  the  story  of  all  existence  from 
eternity.  There  can  be  no  theory,  then,  of  any  thing,  or  group  of 
things,  of  any  change,  or  series  of  changes,  which  is  not  a  coordi- 
nate part  of  universal  theory.  Each  science  must  not  only  be 
compatible  with  every  other  science,  but,  inseparable  from  every 
other,  it  must  with  them  complete  the  unity  of  knowledge.  More- 
over, in  every  science  the  verdict  of  reason  must  accord  with  the 
verdict  of  sense  perception.  This  accord,  indeed,  is  the  very 


98      STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

substance  of  science,  the  innermost  essence  of  verification. 
Science  cannot  identify  or  measure  truth  by  standards  of  utility. 
It  can  only  declare  that  this  observation,  or  that  generalization, 
accords  with,  or  stands  in  conflict  with,  other  observations,  other 
generalizations.  It  may  make  for  pleasure.  We  believe  that  in 
the  end  it  will.  For  the  moment  it  may  contribute  only  pain. 
With  either  result  the  scientific  man  as  such  has  no  concern. 

Accepting  this  conception  of  scientific  knowledge  as  the  basic 
standard  from  which  to  judge  the  pretensions  of  any  explanation 
or  theory  of  collective  life,  we  expect  to  find,  and  we  do  in  fact 
find,  that  many  sciences  have  something  to  contribute  to  the  sys- 
tematic analysis  and  interpretation  of  human  society. 

The  natural  groupings  of  human  beings  which  are  the  bases  of 
their  community  life  are  in  no  important  sense  unique.  From 
botany  and  from  zoology  we  learn  that  these  groupings  are  com- 
mon to  all  living  things.  The  patches  of  lichen,  the  beds  of  moss, 
the  forests  of  pine  or  of  oak,  the  swarms  of  bees,  the  hills  of  ants, 
the  shoals  of  fishes,  the  flocks  of  birds,  the  bands  of  squirrels, 
the  colonies  of  beavers,  the  villages  of  prairie  dogs,  the  herds  of 
wild  sheep,  of  antelope,  of  wild  horses  and  wild  cattle,  the  bands 
of  monkeys,  the  tribes  and  nations  of  men,  form  an  unbroken 
series  of  aggregations.  In  like  manner,  collective  behavior  is  a 
phenomenon  not  peculiar  to  the  human  species.  Comparative 
psychology  assures  us  that  from  such  simple  beginnings  as  the 
simultaneous  reaction  of  protozoons  to  mechanical  pressure,  to 
heat,  to  light,  to  electricity,  or  to  chemical  action,  up  through  the 
subinstinctive  mutual  aid  of  the  ants,  the  sympathetically  con- 
certed action  of  pelicans  in  fishing  or  of  wolves  in  hunting,  to  the 
deliberate  cooperation  of  Australian  savages  in  corroboree,  or  of 
Tammany  braves  in  a  political  campaign,  there  is  no  point  at 
which  we  can  draw  a  line  and  with  certainty  say :  Here  mere  phys- 
ical response  of  irritable  matter  to  a  stimulus  passes  into  coopera- 
tive instinct  or  here  cooperative  instinct,  in  its  turn,  passes  over 
into  a  reasoned  cooperation. 

The  race  of  man,  however,  is  more  highly  differentiated  than 
any  other  species  of  living  things,  and  the  wide  range  of  human 
variation,  both  physical  and  mental,  which  anthropology  describes, 
has  determined  a  marvelous  diversity  of  kind  and  of  degree  in  the 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  99 

social  groupings  of  human  beings.  Between  the  feeble  hordes — 
the  shifting  camp-fire  groupings — of  primitive  savagery,  and  those 
great  aggregations  of  men  in  the  Mediterranean  Basin  who,  with 
infinite  toil,  laid  the  prehistoric  foundations  of  civilization,  archae- 
ology reveals  endless  gradations,  while  the  peoples  who  upon  these 
foundations  have  builded  with  political  art  the  empires  whose 
story  the  historian  repeats,  have  played  the  drama  of  collective 
life  with  endless  variations. 

And  throughout  these  gradations,  this  range  of  variation,  there 
is  order — the  genetic  order  of  evolutional  change,  the  balanced 
order  of  correlation.  The  presumption  which  biology  establishes 
that  the  reign  of  natural  law  extends  to  every  realm  of  the  world 
of  life  is  confirmed  by  the  sciences  of  social  phenomena.  The 
economist,  the  student  of  comparative  jurisprudence,  the  investi- 
gator of  comparative  politics,  one  and  all  assure  us  that  the  collec- 
tive conduct  of  men  is  not  fortuitous.  The  values  of  the  market- 
place rise  and  fall,  the  activities  of  commerce  ebb  and  flow  as  the 
tides  of  the  sea.  Law  proceeds  from  law  with  the  regularity  of 
a  birthrate.  Parties  and  policies  arise,  flourish,  and  are  lost  in 
new  issues  with  the  sweep  of  a  geometric  curve. 

There  is,  then,  we  must  conclude,  no  branch  of  modern  science 
which  does  not  contribute  something  to  the  theory  of  man's  social 
relations,  and  there  is  no  aspect  of  these  relations  which  may  not 
be  illuminated  by  any  scientific  discovery.  Obviously,  it  is  not 
only  the  structures  and  the  functions  of  living  things  regarded  as 
individuals  that  have  awakened  scientific  curiosity,  but,  as  well, 
the  groupings  of  individuals  and  their  collective  behavior  have 
fixed  the  attention  of  observers  in  many  domains  of  inquiry. 
Under  systematic  scrutiny  they  have  been  revealed  as  legitimate 
scientific  data,  admitting  of  examination  by  scientific  methods. 

Quite  as  certainly,  however,  the  possibilities  of  the  scientific 
study  of  society  have  not  been  exhausted  by  any  of  the  sciences 
thus  far  named.  Beyond  the  questions  4hat  have  been  raised  by 
biologist  and  historian,  by  economist  and  student  of  politics,  there 
are  fundamental  ones  that  thrust  themselves  upon  attention. 

What,  for  example,  is  the  process  of  group  formation?  What 
are  its  conditions?  What,  if  any,  are  its  limits?  What  types  or 
kinds  of  groups  or  of  groupings  arise?  Similar  questions  we  are 


loo    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

compelled  to  ask  about  pluralistic  behavior.  How  does  it  begin  ? 
What  are  its  causes?  What  types  or  kinds  of  pluralistic  behavior 
are  there  ?  How  does  it  develop  into  collective  behavior  and  then 
into  concerted  action  for  the  achievement  of  a  purpose?  How 
far,  under  given  conditions,  does  it  take  the  place  of  individual 
action?  To  what  extent  does  it  become  or  does  it  create  a  con- 
straining pressure  upon  the  individual,  in  some  degree  controlling 
him  and  setting  bounds  to  his  liberty? 

Again,  when  combined  or  collective  action  is  long  continued 
does  it  establish  certain  enduring  relations  among  the  individual 
actors  participating  in  it,  and  are  these  relations  that  complex 
something  which  we  call  social  organization?  If  so,  what  types 
or  kinds  of  social  organization  may  we  discriminate?  What  are 
the  stages  of  their  genesis  ?  What  are  their  respective  limitations  ? 
Do  they  tend  to  become  fixed  or  rigid,  or  may  they  remain  plastic, 
with  a  mobile  and  shifting  membership? 

Such  questions  provoke  others.  What  consequences  or  re- 
actions proceed  from  natural  groupings  and  from  collective  be- 
havior? It  is  commonly  assumed  that  they  create  artificial  con- 
ditions of  security  and  opportunity.  What,  then,  is  their  effect 
upon  the  process  of  evolutionary  selection?  What  on  the  sur- 
vival of  any  given  race  or  stock?  What  upon  the  amplitude  and 
the  richness  of  individual  life?  What  upon  the  character  of  the 
individual  and  of  the  race  ?  In  a  word,  does  the  character  of  the 
mass  determine  the  character  of  the  individual,  or  is  individual 
character  fixed  and  determinative  of  the  mass  ?  Or  yet,  perhaps, 
within  ascertainable  limits,  does  each  determine  the  other  ? 

Finally,  there  is  a  profound  question  of  interpretation,  the 
ultimate  question  of  causation.  From  the  political  sciences  we 
have  derived  conceptions  of  teleological  causation.  We  have  been 
led  to  think  of  man  as  a  creator,  fashioning  his  social  relations  as 
he  would  have  them  for  the  achievement  of  ends  which  he  has 
visualized.  From  biology  we  have  derived  the  conception  of  an 
ecological  explanation.  Life  proceeds  through  an  adaptation  of 
organism  to  environment.  Environment  moulds  the  organism, 
provokes  and  directs  its  activities,  and  determines  its  fate.  Is 
social  evolution,  in  like  manner,  an  ecological  adaptation  ?  Grant- 
ing that  it  is,  is  it  also  an  idealistic  striving  ?  How  far,  then,  may 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  101 

our  interpretation  of  social  relations  legitimately  be  idealistic,  how 
far  must  it  be  ecological  ? 

Under  careful  examination  these  radical  inquiries  about  social 
phenomena  are  seen  to  be  closely  clustered  and  correlated.  Aris- 
ing within  a  well-defined  field  of  research,  they  are  the  problems 
of  a  logically  organized  science.  Presupposing  general  psychol- 
ogy, presupposing  also  anthropology  conceived  as  a  special  and 
concrete  psychology  of  the  racial  varieties  of  mankind,  and 
presupposing,  finally,  archaeology  and  history,  sociology — the 
general  science  of  society — is  the  true  scientific  foundation 
of  such  special  sciences  as  political  economy,  jurisprudence  and 
politics.  As  such,  it  has  little  in  common  with  that  portentous 
science  of  all  social  things,  good  and  bad,  but  especially  bad, 
which  has  been  invented  for  the  sociologist  by  untethered  intel- 
lects that  live  by  describing  things  which  the  non- journalistic  eye 
has  not  seen  and  defining  things  which  have  not  entered  into 
the  merely  academic  mind  to  conceive.  The  sociology  with  which 
we  are  here  concerned  may  be  defined  in  the  simple  terms  already 
used  and  repeated — as  the  science  of  the  natural  groupings  and 
the  collective  behavior  of  living  things,  including  human  beings. 

Social  philosophy  grappled  in  its  youth  with  its  most  difficult 
questions,  those,  namely,  of  personal  causation  and  of  the  action 
of  society  upon  the  individual  character.  This  was  not  because 
systematic  inquiry  into  the  nature  of  society  was  a  legacy  from 
anthropomorphic  ages.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  because  it  arose 
in  that  Grecian  world  where,  for  the  first  time,  man  had  become 
in  the  true  sense  of  the  word  a  citizen,  and  had  experimentally 
demonstrated  that,  through  a  free  and  plastic  social  organization, 
he  could  in  a  measure  control  his  own  economic  and  moral  destiny. 
In  Egypt  and  in  Babylonia  political  integration,  hastened  and 
hardened  by  empire-making  militarism,  had  brought  all  the  eastern 
lands  under  a  remorseless  despotism.  Peoples  once  free  and 
happy  had  been  so  crushed  by  exploitation  that  hope  itself  had 
almost  died  within  them.  Despairing  of  redress  at  the  hands  of 
any  earthly  power,  and  distrustful  of  themselves,  they  could  only 
create  and  embrace,  according  to  their  temperaments,  the  relig- 
ions of  resignation,  or  those  of  apocalyptic  vision.  In  the  Aegean 


102     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

Grecian  world  geography  and  race  had  conspired  to  prevent  a  too 
rapid  centralization  of  power.  The  city  states  were  still  free  and 
proud.  Man  still  believed  in  himself  and  respected  his  fellow  man. 
Rejoicing  in  political  as  in  artistic  creation,  loyal  to  the  state  which 
his  own  thought  had  fashioned,  he  believed  that  he  could  make  it 
perfect,  and  thereby  perfect  himself.  Therefore  it  is  that  the 
first  comprehensive  work  on  the  nature  and  possibilities  of  hu- 
man society  which  has  come  down  to  us  from  the  past  was  the 
Utopian  Republic  of  Plato. 

The  imperishable  contribution  which  this  work  makes  to  our 
reasoned  knowledge  of  human  society  is  found  not  in  its  com- 
munistic plan  of  life,  but  rather  in  its  analysis  and  its  correlation 
of  moral  and  social  forces ;  above  all,  in  its  actual  solution  of  the 
problem  of  social  reaction  upon  individual  character.  Assuming 
that  man  as  a  personal  cause  can  in  fact  mould  the  commonwealth 
to  his  will,  assuming  also  that  the  final  end  of  endeavor  is  the 
attainment  of  a  good  life — which  should  consist  substantially  of 
those  kinds  and  degrees  of  pleasurable  activity  that  reason  can 
approve  of — The  Republic  demonstrates  that  the  "good  life," 
so  conceived,  after  all  depends  upon  a  certain  objective  condition 
which  reason  and  the  human  will  may  create,  and  which  is  called 
"justice."  Moreover,  reason  and  will  cannot  create  justice  directly. 
They  can  establish  it  only  through  the  fine  adjustments  of  a  social 
order.  Thus,  in  the  thought  of  Plato,  the  "good  life"  is  a  func- 
tion of  "justice,"  and  to  maintain  justice  is  the  function  of  social 
organization. 

It  was  but  too  obvious,  however,  to  the  men  of  Athens  in  its 
Periclean  Age,  as  it  is  to  us  to-day,  that  not  all  society  establishes 
justice,  and  that  not  all  so-called  justice  yields  the  fruitage  of 
good  life.  It  was  inevitable  to  ask  whether  the  failure  is  wholly 
attributable  to  man's  fault  or  weakness,  or  is  caused  in  part  by 
those  vicissitudes  of  fortune  which,  as  Plato  himself  admitted, 
finally  govern  all  human  affairs.  It  is  to  this  problem  that 
Aristotle  turns  in  The  Politics,  in  some  respects  the  most  mas- 
terful treatise  upon  human  relations  that  has  yet  proceeded  from 
either  the  ancient  or  the  modern  mind.  Based  upon  an  inductive 
study  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-eight  Grecian  constitutions,  it 
analyzes  the  nature  and  functions  of  the  state,  it  classifies  and 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  103 

critically  compares  the  forms  of  government,  it  exposes  both  the 
inherent  and  the  adventitious  limitations  of  each,  and  reveals  the 
causes  of  political  change,  including  revolution,  that  lie  deep  in 
human  nature,  in  historical  experience,  in  geography,  climate  and 
soil,  and  in  other  circumstances  of  external  fact.  Thus,  while 
fully  recognizing  the  creative  part  of  conscious  purpose,  Aristotle 
carries  explanation  back  to  impersonal  causation.  He  lays  the 
foundation  for  an  ecological  interpretation.  Inductive  also  in 
his  method,  where  Plato  is  speculative  only,  his  work  is  more 
strictly  a  scientific  study  of  society. 

While  Plato  was  interested  chiefly  in  problems  of  the  social 
welfare,  and  Aristotle  chiefly  in  the  antecedent  problems  of  social 
organization,  they  did  not  quite  neglect  a  multitude  of  facts  that 
are  dynamically  antecedent  to  association,  as  organization  is 
functionally  antecedent  to  welfare.  Aristotle,  especially,  was 
curious  about  the  nature  of  those  bonds  of  feeling  and  purpose 
which  hold  men  together  in  agreeable  or  useful  organization,  and 
in  his  chapters  on  Friendship,  in  the  Nicomachean  Ethics,  he 
recognizes  the  importance  of  that  sense  of  similarity,  which,  long 
before  his  day,  had  been  expressed  in  the  proverb  that  "birds  of  a 
feather  flock  together,"  and  by  Empedocles  in  the  saying  that 
"like  desires  like."  Perceiving  that  this  social  sense  is  instinctive, 
he  built  the  argument  of  The  Politics  upon  the  postulate  that 
man  is  a  political  animal. 

This  simple  theory  of  the  social  mind  was  both  broadened  and 
deepened  by  the  disciples  of  Zeno.  Alexander's  conquests  brought 
into  one  political  system  Thracian  and  Athenian,  Asiatic  and 
Egyptian.  In  the  cosmopolitan  atmosphere  of  the  Macedonian 
Empire  the  brotherhood  of  man  became  for  the  first  time  a  prac- 
tically important  fact,  and  stoic  philosophy,  reflecting  upon  the 
moral  consciousness  common  to  barbarian  and  Greek,  explained 
it  as  the  conformity  of  human  reason  to  a  universal  reason  imma- 
nent in  nature.  This  interpretation  goes  to  the  bottom  of  things, 
for  it  is  equivalent  to  the  proposition  that  resemblances  and  sym- 
pathies have  their  origins  in  like  adaptations  of  otherwise  differ- 
ing men  to  the  same  objective  fact  or  universal  law. 

With  cosmopolitanism,  however,  came  individualism,  and  with 
it  the  final  word  of  Greek  philosophy  upon  the  social  relations. 


104     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

Epicureanism,  with  its  emphasis  upon  individual  initiative  and 
individual  happiness,  contended  that  the  society  is  best  which 
imposes  minimum  restraints  upon  the  individual  will.  From  this 
doctrine  as  a  premise,  the  conclusion  was  inevitably  reached  that 
social  and  legal  relations  rest  wholly  upon  individual  self-interest, 
and  the  desire  of  each  to  secure  himself  against  injury.  The  true 
origin  of  society  was  therefore  to  be  sought  in  contract  or  consent. 
So  the  teaching  of  Plato  and  of  Aristotle  was  turned  about.  The 
assumption  that  society  creates  and  moulds  the  individual  became 
the  dogma  that  individuals,  for  individualistic  ends,  create  society. 

In  the  further  development  of  social  philosophy  from  these 
Greek  beginnings,  the  historical  evolution  of  society  itself  con- 
tinued to  be  the  chief  formative  cause.  To  the  Roman  mind,  with 
its  genius  for  political  organization,  the  problems  of  organization 
in  general  made  strong  appeal.  But  the  great  achievement  of 
Roman  intellect  was  its  analysis  and  correlation  of  the  facts  from 
which  organization  proceeds.  The  conflicts  of  mind  provoked  by 
conflicts  of  interest,  the  meeting  or  concert  of  minds,  the  emer- 
gence therefrom  of  contract,  and  the  ultimate  expression  in  law 
of  the  collective  reason  and  final  decision  of  the  community — 
these  phenomena  were  more  completely  understood  and  more 
accurately  described  by  the  Roman  legal  writers  than  by  the 
Greek  philosophers.  While  The  Republic  and  The  Laws  of 
Plato  tell  us  what  laws  ought  to  be,  The  Republic  and  The 
Laws  of  Cicero  tell  us  what  laws  are  and  how  they  came  to  be. 
The  Romans,  moreover,  by  their  conquest,  incorporation  and 
assimilation  of  many  diverse  peoples,  acquired  a  knowledge  never 
before  attained  of  the  ethnic  composition  and  other  physical 
phenomena  of  a  social  population  that  are  determinative  of  the 
social  mind,  and  to  this  day  there  are  no  better  descriptive  studies 
of  some  aspects  of  ethnic  character  and  influence  than  Caesar's 
Gallic  War  and  the  Germania  of  Tacitus. 

The  rise  of  the  Christian  Church  and  the  extension  of  its 
authority  from  Rome  to  the  remotest  frontier  of  the  secular 
empire  offered  to  contemplation  a  new  and  magnificent  social 
order.  It  presented  new  ideals  of  human  well-being  and  a  com- 
prehensive organization.  Claiming  to  be  in  truth  that  City  of 
God  which  Augustine  portrayed,  it  demanded  recognition  from. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  105 

kings  no  less  than  from  people  as  a  universal  society  within  which 
the  secular  state  must  henceforth  take  a  subordinate  place.  To 
vindicate  not  only  the  historical,  but  also  the  rational  claim  of 
the  secular  empire  over  the  ecclesiastical  power,  was  the  purpose 
of  Dante's  De  Monarchic*. 

It  was  not  chiefly  by  argument,  however,  that  the  conflicting 
claims  of  secular  and  ecclesiastical  authority  were  adjusted.  The 
secular  state  established  its  dominion  by  force,  and  thereby 
brought  again  into  the  foreground  of  consciousness  the  questions 
of  social  psychology.  For  political  force  is  something  more  than 
the  vis  viva  of  a  physical  body.  It  is  the  conquering  power  of  a 
political  body,  the  cohesion  and  self-directing  quality  of  which  are 
not  accounted  for  by  instinct  and  sympathy  only.  It  is  a  com- 
manding because  it  is  a  commanded  group.  A  chieftain  speaks 
and  followers  obey.  A  prince  rules  and  subjects  render  service. 
With  amazing  precision,  Nicolo  Machiavelli  analyzed  the  psychol- 
ogy of  this  relation  as  it  had  never  been  analyzed  before.  The 
leader  obtains  obedience  through  his  power  to  browbeat  lesser 
men,  to  inspire  and  to  awe.  He  is  feared  and  revered  not  so 
much  for  his  physical  strength  alone,  as  for  his  nerve,  his  re- 
sourcefulness and  craft;  because  he  is  the  fearless  man  in  the 
midst  of  men  who  fear.  Collectively  they  could  make  an  end  of 
him,  but  that  is  the  last  thing  they  would  wish  to  do.  For,  deeper 
and  more  overmastering  than  their  fear  of  him  is  their  fear  of  a 
hostile  world  environing  them  and  forever  threatening  their  ex- 
istence, and  they  have  discovered  that  their  man  of  iron  is  able 
to  make  that  outer  world  fear  him  as  they  also  fear.  Loyally  and 
without  question  obeying  him,  they  are  safe.  They  conquer  and 
make  their  way,  they  build  the  state  and  extend  its  domain.  The 
alternative  is  servitude  or  extermination.  Therefore,  the  supreme 
duty  of  the  prince  is  to  maintain  his  authority.  The  supreme  duty 
of  the  state,  whether  principality  or  republic,  is  to  maintain  its 
dominion  and  its  vital  quality  of  growth.  Greek  civilization  was 
overwhelmed  because  the  Greek  ideal  was  a  static  perfection. 
Rome,  expanding,  became  mistress  of  the  world.  Consequently, 
to  the  conduct  of  the  prince  and  to  the  policy  of  the  state,  pro- 
founder  standards  than  those  of  ordinary  morals  apply.  Self- 
preservation  through  adequate  power  and  ceaseless  growth,  is  the 


106    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

supreme  law.  The  social  order  may  not  rightfully  be  permitted, 
for  moral  reasons,  to  disintegrate,  as  the  Queen  of  Siam  was  left 
to  drown  because  it  would  have  been  sacrilege  to  lay  hands  upon 
her  sacred  person.  Machiavelli  did  not  see  in  the  struggle  for 
existence  all  that  Darwin  was  to  discover  in  it,  but  he  did  grasp 
the  tremendous  truth  that  out  of  it  springs  social  life,  to  be  for- 
ever conditioned  by  it,  and  that  no  system  of  state-craft  or  of 
ethics  which  is  constructed  in  lofty  disregard  of  it  can  be  other 
than  childish. 

After  Machiavelli,  it  was  easy  for  the  political  theorists,  Bodin 
and  Althusius,  to  construct  their  concepts  of  sovereignty  and  the 
state.  Society,  as  Bodin  taught,  arises  from  instinct  and  is  devel- 
oped by  experiences  of  the  pleasure  and  utility  of  association. 
Within  the  bosom  of  society  the  state  is  created  by  force,  and 
sovereignty  is  supreme  political  power  "over  citizens  and  subjects 
unrestricted  by  the  laws."  This  conception  was  more  simple  than 
the  facts,  some  of  which  Althusius  more  clearly  perceived.  De- 
fining sovereignty  as  the  supereminent  power  of  doing  what  per- 
tains to  the  spiritual  and  bodily  welfare  of  the  members  of  the 
state,  Althusius  argued  that  it  inheres  in  the  totality  of  the  people 
and  cannot  be  alienated  or  delegated.  So  conceived,  sovereignty 
is  the  supreme  form  and  expression  of  a  social  will,  and  as  such 
it  is  the  focal  phenomenon  of  the  social  mind. 

Demonstration,  finally,  that  society  and  the  state,  a  social  will, 
rightful  authority,  and  political  power,  have  all  one  common  and 
inevitable  origin,  was  the  achievement  that  Thomas  Hobbes  es- 
sayed. Writing  in  an  age  when  royal  absolutism  was  striving  to 
maintain  itself  against  popular  revolt,  Hobbes  derived  both  society 
and  sovereignty  from  a  covenant  whereby  men  in  a  state  of  nature 
escape  from  intolerable  ills.  Freely  and  gladly  yielding  their 
individual  wills,  men  alienate  their  natural  sovereignty,  and  the 
monarch  or  the  parliament  so  obtaining  authority  rightfully  rules 
absolutely,  wielding  force  to  any  necessary  extent.  If  any  one 
has  refused  to  join  in  the  covenant,  he  has  elected  to  remain  in  a 
state  of  nature  which  is  a  state  of  war.  He  therefore  cannot  com- 
plain if  force  is  used  against  him.  If,  however,  the  titular  sover- 
eign fails  to  maintain  his  authority,  society  is  resolved  back  into 
anarchy,  and  the  social  covenant  must  be  re-made.  Therefore 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  107 

the  revolution  that  succeeds  is  right.  There  is  probably  not  in 
all  literature,  outside  of  the  exact  sciences,  so  complete  an  ex- 
ample of  remorseless  logic  as  De  Corpore  Politico  is. 

Its  one  vulnerable  point,  namely  the  premise,  was  perceived  by 
Locke.  Denying  that  the  state  of  nature  is  one  of  war,  or  for  any 
reason  intolerable,  since  men  of  one  blood  and  kindly  disposed 
spontaneously  aid  one  another,  Locke  contends  that  the  people 
never  alienate  their  natural  sovereignty.  A  natural  society,  they 
forever  are  the  state,  the  source  and  real  wielder  of  power,  al- 
though artificially  by  covenant  creating  institutions  for  utilitarian 
ends  and  delegating  a  limited  authority  to  governments. 

Like  history,  social  theory  had  now  repeated  itself.  From  new 
Utopias  and  the  doctrine  that  the  scope  and  character  of  social 
organization  determine  the  quality  of  individual  life,  it  had  re- 
turned to  the  conclusion  of  Epicurus  that  individuals  in  a  purely 
rationalistic  way  create  society  for  individualistic  ends. 

Throughout  this  long  development  and  in  all  the  various  phases 
that  it  had  assumed  from  Plato  to  Locke,  social  theory,  while  not 
neglecting  observation  or  ignoring  external  cause,  had  been  on 
the  whole  speculative,  or,  to  use  Karl  Pearson's  word,  "ideologi- 
cal," and  its  interpretations  had  been  chiefly  in  terms  of  subjective 
causes,  namely,  motives  and  reasons.  But  from  ideological  be- 
ginnings, science,  as  Pearson  contends,  becomes  in  the  second 
stage  of  its  evolution  observational,  and,  finally,  in  a  third  stage, 
metrical  or  quantitative  and  in  a  strict  sense  of  the  word 
inductive. 

In  Montesquieu's  Esprit  des  Lois  the  speculative  methods 
of  the  social  philosophers  are  frankly  abandoned.  The  work  is 
descriptive  and  its  conclusions  stand  or  fall  with  the  accuracy  and 
sufficiency  of  concrete  facts,  from  which  the  conclusions  are 
derived  by  generalization.  That  this  work,  as  judged  by  modern 
standards,  is  elementary  and  crude  should  not  prevent  our  recog- 
nition of  the  service  it  rendered  in  turning  attention  to  inductive 
method,  in  awakening  interest  in  purely  objective  interpretations 
of  social  phenomena,  and  in  stimulating  by  suggestion  and  ex- 
ample those  researches  which  have  accumulated  for  the  use  of 
scholars  today  an  enormous  mass  of  ethnographic  and  other 


io8    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

descriptive  sociological  material.  Montesquieu  converted  social 
philosophy  into  descriptive  social  science. 

Meanwhile,  the  beginnings  of  quantitative  investigation  had 
been  made.  Ancient  states  enumerated  their  populations  for 
purposes  of  taxation  and  military  service.  The  Roman  census 
was  taken  at  five-year  intervals,  and  there  were  probably  at  least 
seventy  such  enumerations.  The  mediaeval  church  kept  records 
of  marriages,  births  and  deaths,  primarily  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
ciding disputed  cases  of  kinship-degree  barring  sacramental  mar- 
riage. The  Domesday  survey  of  England,  ordered  by  William  of 
Normandy,  is  an  admirable  document  of  descriptive  sociology. 
Manorial  records  in  many  instances  are  accurate  and  detailed  de- 
scriptions of  local  communities. 

Masses  of  figures,  as  such,  however,  are  descriptive  only.  They 
may  be  profoundly  significant,  but  they  yield  their  meaning  only 
to  interpretative  analyses  that  involve  the  use  of  somewhat  refined 
mathematical  methods.  The  first  step  in  this  direction  was  taken 
by  the  astronomer,  Edmund  Halley,  in  1693.  John  Graunt  had 
compiled  interesting  tables  of  mortality,  but  had  not  derived  from 
them  any  important  induction.  Halley  drew  up  a  life  table  from 
observations  in  Dresden,  from  which  he  demonstrated  what  pro- 
portion of  all  persons  born  in  any  given  year  would  die  or  survive 
in  each  succeeding  year.  This  was  the  first  true  inductive  gen- 
eralization of  law  in  the  realm  of  social  phenomena.  To  the  in- 
fluence of  another  great  mathematician  and  astronomer,  Laplace, 
the  subsequent  developments  of  quantitative  method  in  sociological 
research  must  in  large  measure  be  attributed.  Laplace's  marvel- 
ous mind  ranged  over  the  whole  field  of  human  knowledge.  He 
drew  about  him  the  original  and  interesting  men  of  his  time. 
Among  these  was  the  younger  mathematician,  Jean  Baptiste 
Fourier,  whose  monographic  studies  of  the  city  of  Paris  revealed 
the  possibilities  of  scientific  inference  from  statistics  of  aggrega- 
tion, of  births  and  deaths,  and  of  distributions  of  population  by 
age  and  sex.  The  Belgian  statistician,  Quetelet,  whose  Physique 
sociale  and  Sur  I'Homme  were  the  first  serious  attempts  to 
extend  statistical  methods  to  a  study  of  the  mental  and  moral 
phenomena  of  society,  acknowledged  his  indebtedness  to  Fourier 
and  through  him  to  Laplace. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  109 

It  is  well  to  linger  a  moment  upon  the  specific  and  important 
contribution  that  Quetelet  made  to  a  quantitative  method  in  social 
science.  It  consisted  in  certain  applications  of  the  theory  of 
probability.  Things  that  happen  by  chance  reveal  in  their  group- 
ing or  arrangement  a  remarkable  uniformity.  When  a  cartload  of 
bricks  is  dropped  upon  the  ground,  the  individual  bricks  scatter 
in  every  direction,  but  more  of  them  fall  closely  about  a  central 
point  than  elsewhere,  and  the  aggregate  is  a  roughly  rounded  pile. 
If  hundreds  of  bushels  of  wheat  comprising  millions  of  individual 
grains  fall  from  a  shute  to  a  floor  below,  the  rounded  pile  presents 
an  exceedingly  accurate  symmetry.  This  means  that  the  greater 
the  number  of  chance  distributions  of  any  given  kind,  the  more 
precise  is  the  regularity  of  their  distribution.  Mathematically  it 
is  represented  by  a  curve,  known  as  the  probability  curve,  or-  the 
curve  of  error. 

This  term,  "curve  of  error,"  has  also  an  interesting  significance. 
If  a  hundred  different  men  should  measure  the  distance  between 
two  points,  their  results,  however  carefully  they  did  their  work, 
would  not  precisely  agree.  The  measuring  rod  or  line  might 
undergo  slight  changes,  and  men  differ  in  manual  dexterity  and 
in  accuracy  of  sight.  Assuming  that  there  is  a  true  value  or 
measure  of  distance,  actual  measurements  differ  from  it  by  cer- 
tain "errors"  or  "deviations."  If  these  errors  have  been  made 
by  chance  only,  their  distribution  corresponds  to  the  probability 
curve.  If,  however,  they  have  been  subject  to  a  disturbing  cause 
or  bias,  their  curve  is  unlike  the  probability  curve.  Here,  then, 
is  a  principle  which  can  be  and  has  long  been  used  to  determine 
the  accuracy  of  scientific  observation  and  measurement,  both  for 
theoretical  purposes,  as  in  astronomy,  and  for  practical  purposes, 
as  in  engineering. 

But,  obviously,  the  principle  has  a  more  profound  meaning  also. 
Any  distribution  of  a  great  many  numerical  items  which  notice- 
ably differs  from  the  curve  of  probability  reveals  specific  causa- 
tion. It  tells  us  at  once  that  we  have  to  look  for  a  cause  which 
is  creating  effects  different  from  those  that  might  happen  by 
chance,  and  by  its  form  it  may  give  us  some  hint  of  what  the  cause 
is  or  where  to  look  for  it. 

And  even  this  meaning  is  not  quite  all.    The  curve  of  proba- 


1 10     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

bility  gives  us  the  only  precise  meaning  of  the  term  "scientific 
knowledge."  We  have  seen  that  human  observations  and  meas- 
urements are  never  precisely  accurate.  Generalizations,  in  like 
manner,  are  never  precisely  true.  The  formulation  of  a  law  of 
nature  can  never  be  made  absolutely  exact.  Scientific  knowledge, 
therefore,  is  not  that  absolutely  exact  and  certain  knowledge 
which  the  popular  mind  assumes  it  to  be.  It  is  certainty  or  exact- 
ness within  a  range  of  error,  and  to  diminish  that  range  is  the 
object  of  scientific  endeavor.  When,  therefore,  we  are  told  that 
recent  work  in  astronomy  demonstrates  that  the  Newtonian  laws 
of  motion  and  the  law  of  gravitation,  as  Newton  formulated  it, 
have  been  corrected  by  a  decimal  or  two,  we  are  not  told  that  these 
laws  are  invalid  and  that  science,  after  making  a  splurge  in  the 
world,  has  arrived  at  bankruptcy,  as  M.  Brunetiere  dogmatically 
proclaimed ;  we  are  told  only  what  any  modest  scientific  gentleman 
of  fair  mathematical  attainments  could  very  positively  have 
foretold. 

That  the  ideas  and  the  methods  of  Laplace  greatly  influenced 
the  thought  of  Auguste  Comte,  we  have  abundant  evidence.  Al- 
though he  was  a  teacher  of  mathematics,  Comte  did  not  develop 
his  own  generalizations  by  mathematical  methods.  But  he  did 
grasp  and  exploit  the  notion  that  science  differs  from  speculative 
philosophy  in  virture  of  its  limited  range  no  less  than  by  reason 
of  its  practice  of  verification.  Science  can  tell  us  how  things  are 
distributed  in  orderly  coexistence  and  in  orderly  sequence,  and  it 
can  discover  with  what  other  distributions  any  given  distribution 
is  most  closely  correlated.  The  various  sciences  themselves, 
Comte  contended,  are  related  to  one  another  in  a  sequence  at  once 
genetic  and  logical,  and  to  the  complete  body  of  knowledge  which 
they  collectively  present  he  gave  the  name  Philosophic  positive. 
In  his  hierarchy,  mathematics  is  the  initial,  the  most  abstract, 
and  the  most  general  science.  The  science  of  society  is  most 
concrete  and  special,  and  it  is  the  final  science  to  which  all  sciences 
that  go  before  it  are  tributary.  To  distinguish  the  comprehensive 
social  science  from  all  fragmentary  studies  of  society,  dealing  in 
their  various  ways  with  more  or  less  definite  divisions  of  social 
phenomena,  and  to  mark  it  off  as  a  body  of  pure  knowledge  from 
all  programs  of  social  reform,  he  called  the  social  science  "La 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  in 

Sociologie."  As  Comte  conceived  it,  sociology  should  exclude 
theological  and  metaphysical  explanations,  and  keep  itself  distinct 
from  ethical  applications.  Above  all,  it  should  keep  itself  free 
from  the  revolutionary  spirit.  In  his  youth  Comte  had  been  a 
disciple  of  Saint  Simon,  but  he  had  wearied  of  revolutionary 
reform,  and  had  come  to  believe  that  enduring  social  reconstruc- 
tion must  stand  on  firm  and  broad  foundations  of  scientific 
knowledge. 

Comte  predicted  sociology;  he  did  not  himself  create  it.  The 
first  strictly  sociological  treatise  was  the  Social  Statics  of  Her- 
bert Spencer,  published  in  1850.  Without  either  accepting  or 
rejecting  that  comparison  of  Spencer  to  the  great  intellects  of 
Greece,  which  his  more  ardent  disciples  have  made,  it  may  at 
once  be  acknowledged  that  the  Social  Statics  challenges  com- 
parison to  an  extent  that  perhaps  no  other  writing  does,  with  both 
The  Republic  of  Plato  and  The  Politics  of  Aristotle.  It 
propounds  the  same  problems  which  they  discuss,  and  it  offers 
solutions  which,  though  not  identical  with  theirs,  are  closely 
parallel  to  them.  The  object  of  human  effort  for  Spencer  is  hap- 
piness :  and  as  he  conceives  of  happiness,  it  does  not  greatly  differ 
from  the  joy  of  rational  activity  which  was  the  "good  life"  for 
Plato.  Happiness  depends  upon  external  conditions,  which  are, 
namely,  liberty  and  justice.  Justice,  however,  for  Mr.  Spencer, 
is  that  limitation  of  liberty  which  equalizes  it  among  men,  whereas 
for  Plato  it  was  that  specialization  of  work  and  opportunity  which 
enables  every  man  to  do  what  he  can  do  best,  and  to  be  what  he 
can  be  perfectly.  Both  writers  agree  that  to  establish  justice  is 
the  proximate  purpose,  or  function,  of  society. 

So  far  there  is  nothing  essentially  new  in  the  Social  Statics. 
But  at  the  end  of  the  book  there  is  a  discussion  of  the  dynamics 
of  society,  the  originality  of  which  no  well-informed  critic  has 
ventured  to  call  in  question.  Society  obviously  is  not  at  present 
in  the  perfect  equilibrium  of  equalized  liberty.  Are  social  tensions 
and  pressures,  then,  tending,  Mr.  Spencer  asks,  toward  equilib- 
rium ?  Have  they  been  tending  toward  it  from  the  beginning,  and 
if  so,  to  what  causes  may  the  progressive  recomposition  of  forces 
be  attributed? 

Mr.  Spencer  resolves  these  questions  into  the  problem  of  human 


ii2    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

nature.1  No  mere  social  mechanism  will  ever  maintain  the  justice 
of  equalized  liberty  in  a  community  of  men  whose  supreme  desire 
is  to  exploit  the  imperfections  of  the  law.  The  equilibrium  of 
conflicting  interests  must  be  established  in  the  human  heart,  as 
in  outward  relations.  The  assumption  of  political  science,  as  of 
theology,  had  been  that  human  nature  is  unchanging  until  con- 
verted by  supernatural  agency.  Political  science,  influenced  and 
colored  by  theology,  had  pictured  unchanging  human  nature  as 
essentially  evil,  self-seeking  and  ruthless.  The  eighteenth  century, 
reviving  Epicurean  individualism,  reaffirmed  also  the  doctrine 
that  human  nature  is  essentially  good.  The  apparently  inter- 
mediate position  of  Platonism  and  of  Stoicism  that  man  as  a 
composite  being  is  neither  wholly  good  nor  wholly  bad,  and  that 
he  is  modifiable  by  adjustment  to  an  objective  law  or  condition, 
had  reappeared  in  the  teaching  of  Montesquieu  and  of  Condorcet 
— which  culminated  in  the  historical  philosophy  of  Buckle — that 
the  human  mind  is  directly  or  indirectly  moulded  by  the  topog- 
raphy, soil  and  climate  of  its  physical  environment.  These  writ- 
ers, however,  did  not  go  so  far  as  to  assume  that  "inner  moral 
nature"  or  "basic  personality"  which  theology  proclaims  sinful, 
is  regenerated  by  material  causes.  They  argued  only  that  man's 
temperament  and  dominant  emotions,  his  ideas  and  beliefs,  his 
superstition  and  his  rationalism,  are  affected  by  physical  condi- 
tions. The  proposition  that  human  nature  at  the  beginning  of  a 
long  evolutionary  process  was  wicked,  and  that,  under  the  action 
of  natural  causes  which  can  be  identified  and  formulated,  it  tends 
to  become  good,  is  Spencerian,  and  is  new. 

Accepting  as  he  did  the  generalization,  which  Lamarck  had 
made  familiar  in  biology,  that  living  things  are  ceaselessly  trans- 

1 1  use  this  phrase  and  I  think  we  should  continue  to  use  it  as  it  has 
been  employed  for  generations  to  denote  the  concrete  synthesis  of  "origi- 
nal nature"  and  "second  nature."  "Original  nature"  (Thorndike's  phrase) 
is  hereditary.  It  is  made  up  of  instincts.  "Second  nature"  is  not  heredi- 
tary, and  therefore  is  not  truly  "nature"  at  all.  It  is  made  up  of  "recon- 
ditionings"  of  instincts  (by  education  and  otherwise)  and  of  habits. 
Discrimination  of  these  two  natures  followed  upon  the  general  acceptance 
of  Weismann's  contention  that  "acquired"  traits  are  not  hereditary.  To 
"original  nature"  Spencer's  argument  does  not  apply  unless  in  five  thousand 
generations  or  so  instincts  have  been  modified  by  mutation  and  selection. 
They  have  not  been  modified  by  use  and  disuse.  To  "second  nature"  the 
argument  applies  in  full  force. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  113 

formed  through  a  continuing  adaptation  of  organism  to  environ- 
ment, Mr.  Spencer  perceived  an  overlooked  significance  of 
political  integration.  At  the  beginning  of  human  progress,  small 
social  groups  were  so  situated  in  relation  to  a  common  food  sup- 
ply that  they  were  almost  continuously  engaged  in  warfare,  but 
when,  through  successive  conquests,  small  groups  had  been  united 
in  great  states  or  national  federations  it  became  possible  for  a 
majority  of  men  to  give  up  military  pursuits  and  to  devote  them- 
selves to  arts  of  peace.  Herein,  as  Mr.  Spencer  argued,  lay  not 
only  the  possibility,  but  also  the  certainty,  that  primitive  human 
nature,  a  product  of  the  adaptation  of  primitive  man  to  the  condi- 
tions of  his  existence,  must  be  as  brutal  and  cruel  and  treacherous 
as  theology  had  pictured  the  unregenerate  human  soul,  but  that 
developed  man,  under  widely  different  conditions  must  necessarily 
be  transformed  into  the  kindly  and  helpful  being  who  can  live  on 
good  terms  with  his  neighbors,  and  in  cooperation  with  all  man- 
kind. 

In  this  thesis  of  the  concluding  pages  of  Social  Statics  we 
have  the  germ  of  Mr.  Spencer's  rounded  doctrine  of  evolution. 
Explicitly,  or  by  implication,  it  contains  all  the  cardinal  proposi- 
tions of  the  Synthetic  Philosophy:  that  equilibration  is  the 
primary  cosmic  process;  that  integration  and  differentiation  are 
necessary  consequences ;  that  life  is  a  correspondence  of  internal 
to  external  changes ;  that  mental  evolution  is  the  extension  of  ad- 
justment in  space  and  in  time;  that  social  evolution  is  progress 
from  militarism  to  industrialism;  that  moral  evolution  is  the 
conciliation  of  egoistic  and  altruistic  impulses. 

Mr.  Spencer's  sociological  books  are  many  and  voluminous. 
We  nowhere  find  in  them  a  compact  and  logical  summary  of  his 
sociological  system.  The  following  scheme  of  propositions  was 
not  made  by  him,  but  it  received  his  endorsement  :* 

Societies  are  organisms,  or  they  are  super-organic  aggregates. 

Between  societies  and  environing  bodies,  as  between  other  finite 
aggregates  in  nature,  there  is  an  equilibration  of  energy.  There 
is  equilibration  between  society  and  society,  between  one  social 
group  and  another,  between  one  social  class  and  another. 

Equilibration  between   society  and  society,  between  societies 

1  In  a  letter  to  the  author,  December  7,  1900. 


H4    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

and  their  environment,  takes  the  form  of  a  struggle  for  existence 
among  societies.  Conflict  becomes  an  habitual  activity  of  society. 

In  this  struggle  for  existence  fear  of  the  living  and  of  the  dead 
arises.  Fear  of  the  living,  supplementing  conflict,  becomes  the 
root  of  political  control.  Fear  of  the  dead  becomes  the  root  of 
religious  control. 

Organized  and  directed  by  political  and  religious  control,  ha- 
bitual conflict  becomes  militarism.  Militarism  moulds  character 
and  conduct  and  social  organization  into  fitness  for  habitual 
warfare. 

Militarism  combines  small  social  groups  into  larger  ones,  these 
into  larger  and  yet  larger  ones.  It  achieves  social  integration. 
This  process  widens  the  area  within  which  an  increasingly  large 
proportion  of  the  population  is  habitually  at  peace  and  industrially 
employed. 

Habitual  peace  and  industry  mould  character,  conduct  and  social 
organization  into  fitness  for  peaceful,  friendly,  sympathetic  life. 

In  the  peaceful  type  of  society  coercion  diminishes,  spontaneity 
and  individual  initiative  increase.  Social  organization  becomes 
plastic,  and  individuals  moving  freely  from  place  to  place  change 
their  social  relations  without  destroying  social  cohesion,  the  ele- 
ments of  which  are  sympathy  and  knowledge  in  place  of  primitive 
force. 

The  change  from  militarism  to  industrialism  depends  upon  the 
extent  of  the  equilibration  of  energy  between  any  given  society 
and  its  neighboring  societies,  between  the  societies  of  any  given 
race  and  those  of  other  races,  between  society  in  general  and  its 
physical  environment.  Peaceful  industrialism  cannot  finally  be 
established  until  the  equilibrium  of  nations  and  of  races  is  estab- 
lished. 

In  society,  as  in  other  finite  aggregates,  the  extent  of  differen- 
tiation and  the  total  complexity  of  all  the  evolutionary  processes 
depend  upon  the  rate  at  which  integration  proceeds.  The  slower 
the  rate  the  more  complete  and  satisfactory  is  the  evolution. 

Mr.  Spencer  organized  sociology  as  a  science,  and  he  demon- 
strated principles  which  must  always  hold  a  central  place  in 
sociological  theory,  whatever  its  further  development  may  be.  But 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  115 

his  analyses  are  by  no  means  always  exhaustive,  and  he  raised 
many  questions  which  he  left  unanswered. 

The  most  fundamental  question  that  his  exposition  left  open, 
and  over  which  dispute  soon  arose,  is  that  of  the  true  nature  of 
the  social  aggregate.  Is  it,  strictly  speaking,  an  organism,  or  is  it 
more  accurately  described  by  Spencer's  alternative  phrase — a 
super-organic  aggregate?  The  notion  propounded  by  Spencer 
that  a  typical  society,  consisting  of  individuals  both  dwelling  and 
working  together,  is  as  truly  an  organism  as  is  the  animal  or  the 
vegetal  body  composed  of  cells  and  differentiated  into  mutually 
dependent  tissues  and  organs,  was  exploited  by  Schaffle,1  and 
Spencer  himself  took  it  seriously  enough  to  draw  from  it  the 
classifications  followed  in  his  Descriptive  Sociology.  Nothing 
came  of  it,  however,  and  the  alternative  conception  has  prevailed. 
Herd  habit,  social  sentiment  and  society  are  psychological  phe- 
nomena. They  are  products  of  behavior,  and  social  bonds  no  less 
than  collective  performances  are  common  activities  and  inter- 
activities of  individual  minds. 

When  this  assumption  is  made,  the  further  question  arises: 
What  definite  mode  of  mental  action  or  of  behavior  is  the  ele- 
mentary social  fact  ?  There  are  four  possibilities,  namely,  reason, 
impression,  imitation,  and  pluralistic  response  to  common  stimu- 
lation. 

The  Platonic  and  the  social  contract  theories  assume  that  men 
perceive  the  utility  of  association  and  with  conscious  purpose 
endeavor  to  perfect  it.  The  social  bond,  therefore,  is  reason. 
Machiavelli  and  the  writers  on  sovereignty  discovered  the  social 
role  of  that  mental  phenomenon  which  modern  psychologists  call 
impression,  the  power,  namely,  of  the  strong  personality  to  awe 
or  inspire  the  many,  the  power  of  the  mass  to  overawe  the  indi- 
vidual. Durkheim  with  great  ability  maintained  that  this  phe- 
nomenon is  the  distinctly  social  or  society-creating  activity  of  the 
mind.  In  //  Convito,  Dante  descriptively  analyzes  the  familiar 
fact  of  imitation.  The  passage  is  of  curious  interest,  because  it 
pictures  imitations  as  subject  to  refraction  by  media — the  copy  not 
being  quite  like  the  example — as  spreading  in  a  geometrical  pro- 

1Bau  und  Leben  des  sodden  Korpers. 


n6    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

gression,  and  as  setting  up  contradictions  or  duels  among  them- 
selves. There  is  no  evidence  that  Gabriel  Tarde  derived  the 
theses  of  his  brilliant  Les  Lois  de  limitation  from  //  Convito, 
but  it  would  not  matter  if  he  did.  Nor  does  it  matter  whether  M. 
Tarde  derived  much  or  little  from  the  acute  discussion  of  imita- 
tion by  Walter  Bagehot  in  the  Physics  and  Politics.  Tarde 
examined  imitation  and  all  that  can  be  shown  to  proceed  from  it 
with  thoroughness  and  penetration.  He  gave  to  the  word  a  pre- 
cise and  characteristic  meaning,  that  of  the  action  at  a  distance 
of  one  mind  upon  another,  whether  consciously  willed  or  not 
willed,  passive  or  active.  If  it  were  possible  to  demonstrate  that 
society  is  but  a  tissue  of  imitations  defined  as  intermental  actions, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  add  much  of  interest  or  value  to  Tarde's 
argument. 

It  is  demonstrable,  however,  that  neither  imitation  nor  impres- 
sion is  the  most  elementary  social  fact.  It  long  ago  became  un- 
necessary to  argue  that  reason  is  not.  When  an  audience  springs 
to  its  feet  at  the  cry  of  fire,  its  initial  action  is  not  imitation. 
Example  and  imitation  enter  as  complicating  factors  the  instant 
that  movement  toward  the  doors  begins.  The  power  of  impres- 
sion— of  a  cool  and  fearless  man  to  overawe  and  quell — may 
then,  by  some  rare  good  fortune,  intervene  to  prevent  panic,  until 
reason  can  direct  an  orderly  dispersion.  The  initial  action  is 
merely  a  pluralistic  response  (i.e.  a  reaction  by  more  than  one 
individual)  to  a  common  stimulation.  In  terms  of  like  or  of 
unlike,  of  prompt  or  of  slow,  of  persistent  or  of  intermittent 
response,  all  the  phenomena  of  natural  grouping  and  of  collective 
behavior  can  be  stated  and  interpreted.  Intermental  action  is 
interstimulation  and  response.  Like-response,  complicated  by 
intermental  action,  may  become  competition  or  may  become  con- 
certed volition.  It  may  become  solidarity.  Unlike-response  dif- 
ferentiates and  individualizes;  it  may  disintegrate. 

If  some  such  explanation  of  the  social  process  is  tenable,  it  goes 
far  to  resolve  the  difficulties  that  are  presented  by  an  apparent 
dualism  of  social  causation.  The  regional  environment  of  a 
population  sustains  and  energizes  it,  constrains  and  depletes  it, 
and  with  infinite  variety  of  provocation  stimulates  it.  Through  a 
medium  of  circumstances,  including  happenings  of  every  descrip- 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  117 

tion,  environmental  influence  affects  behavior.  These  are  the 
original  causes  of  society  and  of  social  evolution.  The  products 
of  response,  including  personal  influence,  conscious  motives  and 
ideas,  and  the  historical  tradition,  reacting  as  secondary  stimuli, 
are  real  and  immediate,  although  in  a  strict  sense  secondary,  causes 
of  social  change.  Both  groups  of  causes,  the  primary  and  the 
secondary,  act  upon  brain  and  nerve  cells  in  the  same  way,  by 
constraint  and  by  provocation. 

By  means  of  this  conception  of  social  causation,  the  present 
correlation  and  coordination  of  sociological  problems  is  effected. 
To  environmental  influence  and  circumstantial  pressure  response 
is  pluralistic.  Animals  dwell  together  in  swarms  and  in  herds, 
and  in  regional  aggregations.  Men  dwell  together  in  wandering 
bands  or  in  populations.  The  struggle  for  existence  becomes  a 
collective  as  well  as  an  individual  affair.  From  areas  where  the 
struggle  is  most  severe  or  becoming  intolerable  men  and  animals 
move,  if  they  can,  to  more  favorable  regions.  Out  of  the  rivalries 
and  conflicts  of  migrating  or  colonizing  aggregations  develop  new 
circumstantial  pressures  and  new  stimulations. 

Under  the  action  of  these  forces,  populations  assume  varying 
degrees  of  density  and  of  composition.  According  to  their  density 
and  composition  they  react  with  more  or  less  unity  to  a  multiply- 
ing number  of  common  stimuli,  thereby  becoming  more  or  less 
alike  in  behavior,  more  or  less  homogeneous  in  feeling,  thought 
and  purpose.  Through  ever  increasing  intermental  activity,  they 
become  increasingly  conscious  of  their  differences  and  resem- 
blances. A  consciousness  of  behavioristic  kinds,  combining  with 
and  supplementing  like-response  to  stimulation,  converts  instinc- 
tive consorting  and  consorting  by  unthinking  habit  into  a  con- 
sciously preferential  association,  and  thereby  converts  a  herd  into 
society.  Also,  combining  with  and  supplementing  like-response 
to  stimulation,  the  consciousness  of  kind  converts  a  merely  in- 
stinctive cooperation  into  concerted  action. 

Concerted  action  modifies  the  relation  of  organism  to  environ- 
ment and  enhances  well-being.  It  shields  or  removes  individuals 
from  destructive  environmental  influences.  It  multiplies  contacts 
with  stimuli.  Above  all,  it  so  extensively  recombines  natural  ele- 
ments and  forces,  and  so  effectively  directs  their  discharge  through 


1 1 8    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

new  channels,  that  the  environment  itself,  as  far  as  its  specific 
relation  to  man  is  concerned,  is  profoundly  altered.  Its  adverse 
pressure  upon  him  is  diminished,  its  positive  contribution  to  him 
and  its  stimulation  of  him  are  increased. 

Individual  differences  of  opinion  and  of  ability  may  raise  co- 
operation to  a  maximum  effectiveness,  while  certain  differences 
of  attitude  or  of  conduct  may  diminish  its  effectiveness  or  even 
destroy  it.  Human  societies,  perceiving  these  complications,  be- 
come sensitive  to  the  practical  bearing  of  ethnic  unity  and  of 
moral  solidarity.  Differences  of  blood  and  of  speech,  of  creed  and 
of  conduct  arrest  attention  and  awaken  distrust.  Unconsciously  in 
part,  but  consciously  also  in  a  measure,  a  great  deal  of  collective 
action  is  directed  upon  the  task  of  stamping  out  various  differ- 
ences among  men.  Such  collective  action  is  a  true  social  pressure, 
a  constraining  power  of  the  social  mass  upon  the  social  units. 
Its  understood  purpose  and  its  actual  function  are  to  increase  the 
practical  effectiveness  of  society  as  an  instrumentality  for  the  pro- 
tection and  improvement  of  life.  Exterminating  or  restraining 
the  anti-social,  it  selects  for  survival  and  encouragement  the  sym- 
pathetic, the  intelligent,  and  the  self-controlled,  thereby  converting 
the  biological  survival  of  the  fit  into  a  survival  of  the  better  for 
human  purposes.  Nevertheless,  being  repressive  and  destructive, 
social  pressure  curtails  variation ;  it  limits  differentiation ;  it  checks 
spontaneity;  it  sets  bounds  to  individuality,  and  tends  to  create 
rigidity  of  social  organization.  It  is  of  maximum  utility,  there- 
fore, when  it  is  just  strong  enough  to  control  and  to  eliminate  the 
elements  that  obstruct  cooperation,  without  limiting  the  free  activ- 
ity of  elements  that  already  are  adapted  to  social  life.  The  social 
pressure  that  exceeds  this  degree  is  injurious  and  is  justifiable  only 
when  it  is  the  substitution  of  a  less  repression  from  within  for  a 
greater  threatened  repression  from  without.  That  society  best 
fulfils  its  purpose  which  maintains  a  highly  organized  and  effective 
cooperation  with  the  least  social  pressure. 

That  social  pressure  tends  to  increase  when  circumstantial  pres- 
sure increases,  is  a  conclusion  suggested  by  history  and  by  current 
observation.  Not  only  does  the  struggle  of  the  nations  to  obtain 
room  for  their  multiplying  millions  create  coercive  policies,  as  Mr. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  119 

Spencer  explained,  but  so  also  do  impending  dangers  and  insuffer- 
able disorders. 

To  the  extent  that  society  protects  man  and,  multiplying  the 
stimuli  that  act  upon  him  positively,  enables  him  to  improve  and 
enrich  himself,  it  converts  a  generic  evolution  into  the  specific 
thing — progress.  Integration  and  differentiation,  correlation  and 
coordination,  fill  out  the  formula  of  evolution,  but  they  are  not 
necessarily  a  betterment  of  conscious  existence.  Evolution  is  also 
progress  when  each  unit  of  the  integrated  mass  or  group  becomes 
an  end  as  well  as  a  means.  In  the  evolution  of  vegetal  and  of 
animal  life  there  has  been  much  ruthless  sacrificing  of  the  in- 
dividual to  the  race.  In  human  evolution  the  race  has  been  main- 
tained and  differentiated  at  a  diminishing  cost  to  the  Individual. 
This  has  been  accomplished  by  and  through  society.  In  the  higher 
types  of  civilization,  individual  freedom  and  well-being  are  con- 
tinually increased  without  necessary  injury  to  the  race.  Race 
maintenance  and  evolution  with  diminishing  cost  of  individual  life, 
with  increasing  freedom,  power  and  happiness  of  the  individual 
person, — is  progress. 

So  far,  sociology  at  its  best  has  been  a  logically  organized  body 
of  observations  and  categorical  inferences.  Through  an  increas- 
ing use  of  statistical  methods,  it  may  take  on  the  quantitative  char- 
acter. 

To  make  the  possibility  clear,  it  is  necessary  to  call  attention  to 
the  significance  which  that  very  simple  numerical  term,  the  arith- 
metic average,  has  come  to  have  in  the  theory  of  evolution. 

If  there  is  a  struggle  for  existence  in  which  certain  organisms 
perish,  while  others  survive,  it  is  plain  that  the  survivors  tend, 
under  given  environmental  conditions,  to  become  alike,  since  all 
must  possess  those  structural  peculiarities  and  those  habits  which 
give  advantage  over  competitors.  The  more  specific  the  condi- 
tions and  fierce  the  struggle,  the  more  surely  is  an  individual 
marked  for  destruction  if  he  varies  greatly  from  the  successful 
type  or  norm.  Now  most  peculiarities  of  organic  structure  and 
activity  admit  of  measuring — like  height,  or  of  counting — like  the 
number  of  veins  in  a  leaf.  The  measures  or  other  numbers  relat- 
ing to  thousands  of  individuals  may  be  brought  together  in  col- 


izo    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

umns  or  tables.  Their  averages  may  be  obtained,  and  the  differ- 
ence between  each  number  and  the  average  of  all  numbers  of  the 
same  class  may  be  found.  Then,  if  the  numbers,  as  shown  by 
their  deviations,  have  a  wide  dispersion  from  the  average,  we 
know  that  the  individuals  to  which  they  relate  have  not  for  a  long 
time  been  subjected  to  a  relatively  intense  struggle  for  existence. 
It  has  been  possible  for  them  to  vary  within  wide  limits,  and  yet 
to  survive.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  numbers  cluster  closely 
about  their  average,  we  know  that  the  individuals  to  which  they 
refer  have  been  subjected  to  a  severe  unifying  pressure.  They 
have  ceased  to  vary  because  such  as  strayed  from  type  lost  their 
hold  on  life. 

Applications  of  this  principle  developed  by  Galton,  Karl  Pear- 
son, and  others,  have  proved  to  be  of  great  value  in  biology,  in 
psychology,  and  in  anthropology.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that 
in  sociology  they  will  be  not  less  valuable,  especially  as  in  all 
statistical  operations  the  possibilities  of  error  diminish  as  the 
number  of  numerical  items  of  any  given  class,  and  happening  to 
be  available  for  analysis,  increases.  Sociology  will  preeminently 
enjoy  this  advantage. 

The  first  attempt  to  make  a  statistical  statement  of  the  greatest 
possible  number  of  sociological  problems,  and  to  indicate  their 
statistical  solutions,  we  owe  to  Mayo-Smith.  It  was  possible 
when  he  wrote  to  give  precision  to  statistical  studies  of  population 
at  one  end  of  the  series  of  social  phenomena,  to  studies  of  or- 
ganization and  welfare  at  the  other  end.  The  intermediate  and 
crucial  problems  of  mental  type  and  variability,  of  selective  social 
choice,  and  of  social  pressure  could  not  then  be  handled  by  statisti- 
cal methods.  It  is  becoming  possible  now  to  state  and  solve  them 
quantitatively  by  employing  various  new  methodical  devices.  For 
example,  Rodolfo  Benini,  of  Pavia,1  has  demonstrated  that  it  is 
a  comparatively  simple  matter  to  measure  a  phenomenon  seem- 
ingly so  elusive  as  the  consciousness  of  kind.  Tabulating  the 
Italian  statistics  of  marriage,  he  ascertains  how  many  bachelors 
would  marry  maidens,  how  many  widowers  would  marry  widows, 
how  many  men  of  a  given  age  class  would  marry  women  of  the 
same  age  class,  how  many  men  of  a  given  nationality  would  marry 

*Principii  di  Demografia. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  121 

women  of  the  same  nationality,  how  many  Catholics  would  marry 
Catholics,  how  many  men  following  a  given  occupation  would 
marry  women  whose  fathers  followed  the  same  occupation,  if 
all  of  these  combinations  happened  strictly  by  chance.  Compar- 
ing the  probable  numbers  with  the  actual  selections,  he  obtains 
index  numbers  of  selective  choice  or  preference,  thereby  deter- 
mining the  intensity  with  which,  as  Empedocles  remarked,  "like 
desires  like."  This  method  is  applicable  to  a  wide  range  of  social 
choices. 

By  a  procedure  not  very  different  we  could  measure  social 
pressure.  In  modern  times  social  pressure  is  definitely  distributed 
through  provisions  of  statute  law,  and  these  admit  of  tabulations 
from  which  index  numbers  could  be  obtained.  By  mears  of  vary- 
ing index  numbers,  therefore,  we  could  measure  the  varying 
degrees  of  social  pressure  as  we  measure  changes  in  the  purchas- 
ing power  of  gold.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  all  of  the 
chief  theorems  of  sociology  probably  admit  of  quantitative  state- 
ment, solution  and  correlation. 

In  this  all  too  hasty  survey  of  sociological  problems  and  meth- 
ods, certain  provisional  conclusions  have  been  indicated.  But  for 
the  moment  they  seem  to  involve  us  in  new  difficulties.  Ap- 
parently, they  present  curious  contradictions.  Mr.  Spencer  tells 
us  that  in  society,  as  in  aggregates  of  inorganic  things,  the  char- 
acter of  the  units  determines  the  character  of  the  mass,  and  daily 
observation  affords  many  seeming  confirmations  of  this  view. 
The  collective  behavior  and  the  agreeing  purpose  of  a  thousand 
German-born,  or  Italian-born  Americans,  are  not  altogether  like 
the  collective  behavior  and  the  agreeing  purpose  of  an  equal  num- 
ber of  descendants  of  New  England  Puritans  under  like  circum- 
stances and  in  the  same  environment.  On  the  other  hand,  Plato 
and  a  long  line  of  later  philosophers  assumed  without  question 
that  the  character  of  the  mass  determines  the  quality  and  the 
conduct  of  its  component  units.  This  assumption  is  borne  out  by 
the  biological  conclusion  that  environment  moulds  the  organism, 
and  it  is  the  postulate  of  both  our  educational  policy  and  our 
legislation.  That  each  proposition  is  true  within  limits  we  may 
perhaps  infer  from  parallel  phenomena  in  the  physical  world. 


122     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

The  geologist  tells  us  that  rock  which  is  so  highly  crystalline  that 
it  inexorably  determines  the  character  of  any  structure  built  of 
it,  may,  nevertheless,  become  wax-like  under  pressure.  In  like 
manner,  the  harshly  individualistic  character  of  the  frontiersman 
determines  the  scope  and  the  quality  of  the  elementary  social  rela- 
tions which  are  sufficient  for  his  need;  while  in  the  dense  human 
mass  of  a  great  metropolis,  with  its  traditions  and  conventions, 
its  municipal  ordinances  and  its  highly  organized  police  power,  the 
individual  becomes  plastic  and  conformable.  Some  traits  of  in- 
dividuality are  lost,  and  the  traits  of  a  type,  or  class,  appear. 

The  causation  is  obvious.  As  social  evolution  transforms  the 
frontier  into  villages  and  towns,  and  draws  population  from  these 
to  the  metropolis,  it  converts  circumstantial  into  social  pressure, 
which  compels  the  human  units  of  the  community  to  conform 
their  characters  and  their  lives  to  a  social  norm.  But  now  another 
antinomy  appears.  Sociology  confirms  the  teaching  of  biology 
that  individuation  is  a  function  of  liberty,  of  freedom  and  occa- 
sion to  vary  from  type ;  and  society  constrains.  Yet  society,  not- 
withstanding its  constraining  power,  on  the  whole  diminishes  the 
sacrifice  of  the  individual  to  the  race,  enlarges  liberty  and  height- 
ens individual  life. 

The  problem  again  is  one  of  limits,  but  in  this  case  it  is  one  of 
new  factors  also.  While  circumstantial  pressure  tends  always  to 
increase  social  pressure,  the  relation  is  not  unvarying.  The  physi- 
cal and  the  mental  composition  of  the  population  affect  the  ratio. 
Homogeneous  communities  are  normally  democratic.  Highly 
heterogeneous  communities,  until  they  attain  a  very  high  level  of 
moral  and  intellectual  development,  normally  evolve  coercive 
authority.  The  Quaker  congregation  needs  not  even  a  priest. 
The  Roman  Catholic  communion,  embracing  all  sorts  and  condi- 
tions of  men,  is  governed  by  the  Hierarchy.  The  New  England 
town  can  manage  its  affairs  in  town  meeting.  New  York  City 
is  ruled  by  Tammany  Hall. 

In  this  relation  of  demotic  composition  to  social  pressure  lies 
the  real  importance  of  those  practical  questions  pertaining  to 
immigration  and  its  restriction  which  now  interest  the  American 
people.  Homogeneity  need  not  disappear,  and  social  pressure 
need  not  increase  to  the  point  of  despotism  if  assimilation  rapidly 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SOCIAL  THEORY  123 

transforms  the  heterogeneous  invaders.  Liberty  can  be  preserved 
and  extended  even  under  an  increasing  circumstantial  pressure, 
as  long  as  society  continues  to  be  creative  not  only  of  social  pres- 
sure, but  also  of  its  strictly  characteristic  product — a  people — in 
the  sociological  sense  of  the  word. 

As  the  sociologist  views  it,  a  people  is  not  merely  a  middle  class, 
or  a  lower  class,  in  an  economic  stratification  of  the  population. 
Much  less  is  it  that  rabble  of  the  ignorant  and  the  lawless  which 
bulks  in  the  aristocrat's  imagination.  A  people  is  a  psychological 
middle  class  between  the  arrogant  and  self-sufficient  at  one  ex- 
treme, the  rude  and  vulgar  at  the  other  extreme.  A  people  is 
composed  of  the  considerate,  which  is  to  say,  of  those  who  have 
both  manners  and  ideas.  It  is  that  part  of  a  population  which 
can  lay  some  claim  to  mental  and  moral  unity,  which  can  do  things 
collectively,  which  has,  in  a  word,  common  purposes  backed  by 
social  instincts  and  habits.  Cicero  defined  it  perfectly.  By  a 
people,  we  are  to  understand,  he  said,  "not  every  group  of  human 
beings,  however  brought  together,  but  a  multitude  united  by  a 
common  sense  of  right  and  by  a  community  of  interest."  1 

We  are  not  at  the  end,  however,  of  complications  and  of  seem- 
ing contradiction.  The  nation  that  should  adopt  the  policy  of 
absolute  exclusion  of  alien  elements  might  lose  thereby  more  than 
it  could  gain.  We  have  observed  that  stimuli  are  multiplied  by 
social  contacts.  Who  would  venture  to  estimate  the  amount  of 
well-being  that  has  come  to  this  American  nation  by  reason  of 
that  broadened  outlook  upon  the  world,  that  swift  play  of  mind 
upon  mind,  and  that  true  understanding  of  man  by  man  which 
are  ours  because  our  gates  have  been  held  open  to  our  kindred 
of  all  lands? 

Once  more,  then,  our  problem  is  seen  to  be  one  of  limits,  within 
which  a  given  effect  of  social  forces  may  be  anticipated.  And 
because  this  is  the  nature  also  of  those  practical  problems  with 
which  statecraft  has  to  do,  we  discover  the  possible  practical 
value  of  theoretical  sociology  as  a  scientific  criticism  of  public 
policy.  Sociology  has  been  ridiculed  as  a  science  which  formu- 
lates in  forbidding  terminology  the  obvious  conclusions  of  com- 
mon sense.  The  jibe  is  an  old  one,  and  each  science  in  its  day  has 

*De  Republica,  I,  25, 


124    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

inherited  it.  By  common  sense  men  could  build  a  bridge  that 
would  sustain  a  given  load,  but  they  would  waste  material.  Com- 
mon sense  does  not  tell  the  engineer  what  cross-section  his  girders 
must  have  both  to  carry  the  load  desired  and  to  insure  his  reten- 
tion as  a  fit  adviser  to  an  economical  corporation.  Under  the 
pressure  of  external  forces,  either  military  or  economic,  nations 
adopt  policies  of  unification,  which  often  are  extreme  and  unneces- 
sarily costly  in  many  ways.  Reacting  from  these,  they  relax  the 
social  pressure  not  only  on  the  socialized  and  self-controlled,  but 
also  on  the  unscrupulous  exploiter  and  the  predatory  criminal.  It 
will  be  possible  to  subject  these  empirical  policies  to  a  rational 
criticism  when  sociology  has  provided  us  with  approximately  ac- 
curate measures  of  social  forces,  and  of  the  correlation  between 
social  pressure  and  both  the  concentration  and  the  composition 
of  the  population.  Upon  the  success  or  failure  of  our  attempt  to 
obtain  these  will  depend  the  possibility  of  knowing  certainly  what 
policies  under  given  conditions  further  human  progress,  and  what 
retard. 


PART  II 
ANALYTICAL 


CHAPTER  VII 

ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY 

To  the  scientific  mind  the  universe  is  order;  to  the  practical 
mind  it  is  possibility.  Both  minds,  however,  know  that  order  and 
possibility  are  compatible ;  it  is  only  the  mind  that  is  neither  prac- 
tical nor  scientific  which  imagines  that  they  are  not.  Therefore, 
the  scientific  mind  is  under  logical  obligation  to  show  ho»v  order 
accommodates  possibility,  and  the  practical  mind,  if  wise,  will 
wish  to  know  what  bounds  are  set  to  possibility  by  order.  These 
intellectual  requirements  bear  particularly  upon  those  specialized 
investigators  who  undertake  to  find  an  order,  admitting  of  descrip- 
tion in  categories  of  cause  and  law,  in  the  practical  activities  them- 
selves of  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  If  they  proclaim  a 
science  of  society  they  must  themselves  understand,  and  they  must 
make  clear  to  others,  what  they  mean  by  "cause"  when  they  talk 
about  social  causation,  and  what  they  mean  by  "law"  when  they 
set  forth  sociological  laws.  They  must  know  what  "order"  is  and 
what  "possibility"  is. 

At  the  general  session  of  the  German  Association  of  Naturalists 
and  Physicians,  held  at  Vienna  in  September,  1894,  an  Austrian 
physicist,  Ernst  Mach,  delivered  an  address  which  every  scientific 
inquirer  should  know.  It  was  entitled,  "On  the  Principle  of  Com- 
parison in  Physics."  In  substance  it  was  a  lucid  analysis  of  the 
nature  of  scientific  thought,  and  incidentally  of  the  true  nature 
of  science  itself.  Dr.  Mach  began  by  recalling  a  definition  of 
mechanics  which  had  been  given  twenty  years  before  by  Kirch- 
hoff.  Mechanics,  Kirchhoff  had  said,  is  "the  description,  in  com- 
plete and  very  simple  terms,  of  the  motions  occurring  in  nature." 
This  definition  had  agitated  scientific  circles.  It  contained  no 
mention  of  explanation  or  of  prediction  as  functions  of  science,  no 
allusion  to  universal  or  cosmic  law,  no  hint  of  any  search  for 

127 


128    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

first  principles  or  causes.  The  scientific  mind  was  perturbed. 
Was  science,  the  supreme  achievement  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
about  to  abandon  its  chief  pretensions?  Mechanics  is  of  all 
sciences  the  most  exact  and  the  most  advanced.  If,  then,  me- 
chanics is  nothing  but  description,  no  other  branch  of  knowledge 
can  claim  to  be  more.  To  demonstrate  that  this  is  the  simple  and 
practically  helpful  truth  was  the  task  that  Dr.  Mach  essayed. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  repeat  the  demonstration  in  detail.  It 
consisted  in  showing  that  description  is  a  putting  together  of  facts 
in  a  coherent  system  or  continuum,  which  accurately  corresponds 
to  the  coherent  system  or  continuum  of  reality ;  and  that  explana- 
tion, prediction,  the  formulation  of  laws,  are  nothing  more  and 
nothing  less.  When,  for  example,  the  physicist  formulates  the 
law  of  gravitation,  as  an  attraction  of  bodies  for  one  another 
which  varies  directly  with  their  masses,  and  inversely  with  the 
squares  of  their  distances,  and  predicts  that  an  unsupported  body 
will  fall  toward  or  rise  away  from  the  surface  of  the  earth  ac- 
cording as  its  specific  gravity  is  greater  or  less  -than  that  of  the 
atmospheric  envelope,  he  merely  puts  together,  in  a  single  con- 
densed expression,  a  large  number  of  observed  coherences  of 
fact. 

What,  however,  are  observed  facts  ?  Is  the  "attraction"  which 
the  formula  alleges  one  of  them?  Yes  or  no,  according  to  our 
definition  of  the  word.  Shall  we  say  that  it  is  the  "pull"  of  a 
"force"?  Has  any  human  being  ever  seen,  handled,  or  otherwise 
perceived  a  force  ?  Certainly  not.  And  what,  moreover,  does  any 
human  being  know  of  a  "pull"  ?  Nothing  whatever  beyond  cer- 
tain sensations  of  muscular  tension  or  of  political  fatigue.  All, 
then,  that  can  actually  be  observed  of  attraction  is  a  certain  num- 
ber of  changes  in  the  successive  positions  of  material  objects,  and 
a  certain  number  of  changes  in  the  degrees  of  rapidity  with  which 
the  changes  of  position  take  place.  All  that  we  can  really  experi- 
ment with  is  a  number  of  volumes,  densities,  positions,  distances, 
accelerations,  and  retardations.  And  our  formula  or  law,  there- 
fore, is  nothing  more  than  an  accurate  description  of  the  way  in 
which  these  observed  facts  cohere  in  an  objective  series  or  system 
of  reality.  The  object  of  science  is  to  extend  description,  in  this 
sense  of  the  word,  until  it  includes  all  knowable  facts  of  matter, 


ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY  129 

life,  mind,  and  society,  and  places  each  fact  in  its  proper  place 
in  the  complete  system. 

This  conception  of  science,  the  only  one  which  a  critical  exami- 
nation of  the  nature  of  our  knowledge  permits  us  to  entertain, 
discloses  practical  values.  As  science  approaches  perfection,  the 
description  of  the  cosmos  becomes  continuous.  We  discover  that 
every  known  fact  has,  in  coexistence  and  in  sequence,  points  of 
contact  with  other  known  facts.  The  lines  and  colors  in  our 
chart  of  the  universe  are  not  drawn  or  splashed  at  random ;  they 
lie  before  the  mental  vision  in  an  order  of  gradations,  proportions, 
series,  and  systems.  Facts  in  any  part  of  the  chart  are  seen  to  be 
related  to  all  facts  in  every  other  part.  So  we  arrive  at  the  con- 
ception of  nature  as  a  system  of  interdependent  facts.  This  con- 
ception once  reached,  we  perceive  what  really  we  mean  when  we 
say  that  science  enables  us  to  predict  combinations  of  facts  not 
hitherto  observed.  Convinced  by  what  we  already  know,  that 
further  description  of  nature  will  not  derange  the  system  already 
apparent,  we  expect  that  further  knowledge  will  continue  the 
curves  already  partly  drawn,  without  changing  their  equations, 
fill  in  unknown  terms  of  series  without  changing  their  formulas, 
and  supply  shades  of  color  that  will  not  disturb  the  scheme  al- 
ready apparent.  In  this  way  science  enables  us  to  anticipate  facts 
not  yet  actually  observed.  If,  then,  we  admit  that  science  is  de- 
scription, and  that  description  both  reveals  and  presupposes  the 
interdependence  of  the  descriptive  elements,  we  can  accept  the 
theoretical  and  practical  conclusion  at  which  Dr.  Mach  arrives, 
that  science  completes  in  thought  facts  that  are  only  partly  given. 

So  understood,  scientific  description,  it  is  plain,  is  both  concrete 
and  abstract.  It  not  only  depicts,  pictorially,  in  colors,  shapes, 
and  perspectives  as  we  perceive  them,  but  also  it  factorizes,  re- 
solving concretes  into  sorts,  sizes,  positions,  sequences,  arrange- 
ments, proportions,  correlations  and  coordinations,  as  we  conceive 
them. 

Therefore  after  all,  science  does  explain,  in  a  certain  logical, 
non-mystical,  sense  of  the  word.  Resolving  perceived  or  concrete 
wholes  into  conceptual  or  abstract  factors  which,  in  turn,  forecast 
new  concrete  wholes  that  when  looked  for  at  the  right  time  and 
place  will  be  perceivable,  scientific  description  discovers  the  pos- 


130    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

sibilities  of  interchangeability  between  perceptions  and  concep- 
tions.1 

Now  to  forecast  from  abstract  factors  or  concepts  (organized 
into  a  theory)  new  concrete  wholes  that  turn  out  to  be  perceivable, 
is  to  predict ;  and  to  perceive  new  concrete  wholes  that  have  been 
predicted  is  to  verify  the  conceptual  theory.  Precisely  this  is 
what  the  scientific  man  means  by  explanation.  Whatever  else 
passes  for  explanation  is  either  a  pretense,  falling  short  of  ex- 
planation or  missing  it,  or  it  is  a  metaphysical  leap  into  the  un- 
known, and  is  unverifiable. 

So  it  comes  to  this,  that  scientific  explanation  is  description  in 
conceptual  terms  carried  to  the  limits  within  which  verification  by 
perception  is  possible,  and  that  conceptual  description  verifiable 
and  verified  by  perception,  is  explanation. 

The  notion  "causation''  like  the  notion  "explanation"  has  had 
a  past  of  which  the  less  said  the  better.  It  has  kept  company  with 
metaphysics.  But  that  is  no  reason  why  it  should  not  usefully  be 
employed  in  science,  under  a  watchful  eye.  If  we  talk  about 
"explanation,"  we  must  talk  about  "causation"  because,  as  will 
appear,  explanation  is  a  discovery  of  causation. 

Observe  what  happens.  When  we  explain  a  thing  or  happening 
we  factorize  it.  The  process  goes  on  in  our  minds.  The  thing 
or  happening  itself  is  an  object  outside  of  the  mental  process  of 
explaining  it.  Whether  or  not  it  is  also  outside  of  our  minds  or 
of  any  and  all  minds  is  another  question.  Objectively  it  is  the 
perfect  integration  of  its  factors.  If  any  factor  be  lacking  the 
thing  does  not  exist,  or  the  happening  does  not  happen.  There- 
fore the  perfect  integration  of  its  factors  is  the  cause  (in  any 
possible  scientific  meaning  of  the  word)  of  the  thing  or  happen- 
ing. Factorizing  brings  to  light  the  integration,  and  explanation 
by  factorizing,  consequently,  is  a  discovery  of  causation. 

Loosely  we  speak  of  a  dominant  factor  (outranging  guns,  over- 
whelming numbers),  or  of  a  last  contributed  factor  (the  lighted 
match  applied  to  the  fuel),  or  to  a  factor  to  which  responsibility 
attaches  (a  casting  vote)  as  a  cause,  or  as  the  cause  of  something. 
This  is  rhetoric  only,  but  it  is  harmless  and  convenient.2 

'On   this   subject  compare   Karl   Pearson,    The   Grammar   of   Science, 
and  Bertrand  Russell,  Mysticism  and  Logic. 
'  The  conception  of  causation  as  the  integration  of  factors  is  substan- 


ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY  131 

As  the  scientific  description  which  is  also  explanation  is  a  dis- 
covery of  causation,  so  also  is  it  a  discovery  and  formulation  of 
law.  Any  persisting  relation  (correlation,  superordination,  co- 
ordination, or  subordination)  of  factors  is  a  reality  which  is  or 
may  be  formulated  as  a  scientific  generalization  or  as  a  scientific 
law.1 

It  is  now  necessary  to  observe  that  while  law  and  cause  are 
categories  of  order  to  which  science  undertakes  to  reduce  the 
description  of  its  results,  they  are  not,  as  a  rule,  the  categories 
used  in  obtaining  results. 

Research  begins,  as  the  unconscious  acquisition  of  knowledge 
begins,  with  the  simplicities  of  discrimination  and  counting;  and 
the  categories,  therefore,  that  we  first  use  in  factorizing  are  num- 
ber (count  of  discriminated  items)  ;  qualitative  difference  and 
qualitative  resemblance ;  and  quantitative  difference,  or  inequality. 
After  these,  the  categories  chiefly  available  in  discovery  are  corre- 
lation (comprising  all  degrees  of  association,  concurrence  and  con- 
tingency) ;  composition ;  coordination  (together  with  superordina- 
tion and  subordination)  ;  and  mechanistic  reaction. 

tially  identical  with  the  more  loosely  defined  conceptions  of  Mill's  Logic 
and  Jevons's  Principles  of  Science,  long  accepted  as  the  last  word  on 
the  subject.  The  "necessary  antecedent"  of  an  effect,  which  Mill  called 
a  "condition,"  is  simply  any  one  factor ;  and  the  "sufficient  antecedent," 
which  he  tagged  as  "cause,"  is  the  integration  of  all  factors,  and  cannot 
conceivably  be  anything  else. 

1When  it  is  worth  while  to  be  precise  we  must  discriminate  between 
a  constant  relation  of  a  static  phenomenon  to  a  static,  and  a  constant 
relation  of  a  kinetic  phenomenon  to  a  kinetic.  It  is  therefore  convenient 
to  associate  the  word  "generalization"  with  the  one,  and  the  word  "law" 
with  the  other. 

"A  generalization,  in  the  scientific  sense  of  the  word,  is  an  affirmation 
that  a  constant  relation  exists  between  an  unvarying  class  of  facts  and 
some  unvarying  fact  not  in  the  class,  or  between  one  unvarying  class  of 
facts  and  some  other  unvarying  class.  .  .  .  Kepler's  law  ...  is  a  gen- 
eralization." 

"A  law,  in  the  scientific  sense  of  the  word,  is  an  affirmation  of  a 
constant  relation  between  a  fact  of  variation  and  some  other  fact  of 
variation,  or  between  a  fact  of  variation  and  a  class  of  variations,  or 
between  a  class  of  variations  and  some  other  class  of  variations.  .  .  .  The 
law  of  gravitation.  .  .  ." 

"A  class,  in  the  scientific  sense  of  the  word,  is  a  plural  number  of 
facts  that  resemble  one  another  in  some  given  point  or  number  of  points." 

"A  fact,  in  the  scientific  sense  of  the  word,  is  the  close  agreement  of 
many  observations  or  measurements  of  the  same  phenomenon." — Giddings, 
Inductive  Sociology,  pp.  13,  14. 


132    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

Of  correlation,  two  great  subcategories  are  recognized  for 
practical  purposes,  namely,  perfect  correlation,  or  "one  to  one 
correspondence,"  and  imperfect  correlation.  Mathematically  they 
are  merely  differences  of  degree. 

Within  the  limits  of  our  experience  a  designated  thing  or  hap- 
pening may  invariably  be  associated  with  another  designated  thing 
or  happening,  and  the  ratio  of  one  to  the  other  throughout  any 
succession  of  quantitative  changes  may  so  nearly  be  constant  that 
our  best  instruments  of  precision  do  not  enable  us  to  detect  a 
deviation  which  philosophical  or  mathematical  theories  of  rela- 
tivity presume  to  be  possible.  The  acceleration  of  a  falling  body 
in  a  unit  of  time,  the  pressure  of  a  gas  at  a  given  temperature,  the 
ratio  of  a  degree  of  heat  to  a  gravitational  foot  pound,  are  ex- 
amples. In  finite  experience  these  are  substantially  one  to  one 
correspondences :  there  is  always  so  much  of  one  to  so  much  of 
the  other,  point  by  point.  They  are  one  hundred  per  cent,  or 
"perfect,"  correlations.  They  are  the  so-called  "immutable"  laws 
of  nature.  Conceivable  deviations  from  them,  if  there  are  such, 
are  infinitesimal,  and  for  human  purposes  negligible. 

Correlations  of  the  other  subcategory  are  imperfect.  A  desig- 
nated thing  or  happening  is  associated  or  is  concurrent  with  an- 
other designated  thing  or  happening  in  less  than  one  hundred 
percent  of  all  cases  known  or  taken,  or  the  ratio  of  one  to  the 
other  is  variable.  If,  however,  variation  is  within  assignable 
limits,  and  the  percentage  number  of  instances  of  association 
whether  large  or  small  is  constant,  we  have  in  the  phenomena  an 
order  on  which  we  can  rely.  Indeed,  for  the  purposes  of  every- 
day life  we  rely  on  it  as  confidently  as  on  one  to  one  correspon- 
dences. We  sow  expecting  to  reap.  We  plan  journeys  expecting 
that  trains  and  boats  will  run  by  time  tables  and  predetermined 
dates.  We  make  business  and  professional  engagements  expect- 
ing that  parties  of  the  other  part  will  keep  appointments.  We  buy 
and  sell  commodities  and  securities  expecting  that  price  fluctua- 
tions will  range  within  familiar  limits.  We  bring  up  and  educate 
children  knowing  that  they  have  an  ascertainable  "expectation" 
of  life. 

Perfect  correlations  are  "certainties"  in  a  finite  meaning  of  the 
word.  Imperfect  correlations  are  "probabilities" ;  either  positive, 


ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY  133 

ranging  from  o  to  I,  or  negative,  ranging  from  o  to  —  I.  To 
the  extent  that  a  science  measures  "chances"  above  or  below 
"fifty-fifty,"  it  is  a  science  of  probability.  If  it  discovers  and 
demonstrates  one  to  one  correspondences  it  is,  so  far,  exact.  Me- 
chanics, thermo-dynamics,  and  chemistry,  are  exact  sciences. 
Biology,  psychology,  and  sociology,  are  sciences  of  probability  in 
the  main,  but  exact  in  detail  here  and  there. 

Perfect  correlation  while  it  persists  sets  limits  to  possibility  and 
makes  it  determinate.  Imperfect  correlation  leaves  it  indetermi- 
nate. The  crop  may  fail  or  be  "a  bumper,"  stocks  may  go  down 
or  go  up,  beyond  precedent. 

And  as  a  concrete  phenomenon  a  particular  correlation  whether 
perfect  or  imperfect,  is  not  necessarily  persistent :  when  a  falling 
body  hits  the  ground  the  correlation  of  acceleration  wuh  time 
ceases  as  far  as  this  instance  is  concerned.  The  happening,  or 
the  evolution,  or  the  making  of  correlations  determines  possi- 
bility; the  termination  of  correlations  removes  or  sets  back 
bounds,  and  restores  indeterminateness. 

In  attending  to  associations  of  things,  or  of  happenings,  that 
are  liable  to  dissociation  and  recombination  we  pass  from  simple 
correlation  to  multiple  correlation,  or  composition.  Here  also 
possibility  is  determined  and  limited  at  any  given  time  by  an  ex- 
isting order ;  nevertheless,  it  is  unimaginably  great.  The  items  of 
which  the  universe  consists  are  combined,  and  the  combinations 
are  compounded:  electrons  in  atoms,  atoms  in  molecules,  inor- 
ganic molecules  in  inorganic  masses,  protoplasmic  molecules  in 
organic  cells,  cells  in  complex  living  bodies,  and  these  in  groups  or 
populations;  reactions  in  acts,  acts  in  complex  behavior,  and  be- 
havior in  competitions  and  cooperations,  customs  and  institutions, 
movements  and  policies  that  constitute  society  and  history. 

Some  of  these  compounds  are  homogeneous,  their  component 
items  are  of  one  kind ;  others  are  heterogeneous,  their  component 
items  are  of  various  kinds.  Some  of  them,  atoms  above  all,  are 
stable  and  long  enduring;  others,  the  nitrogenous  compounds  con- 
spicuously, are  unstable,  easily,  and  often  quickly,  broken  up ;  yet 
others,  organic  bodies,  simultaneously  break  up  and  build  up,  by 
continually  eliminating  outworn  components  and  replacing  them 
with  new.  The  relation  of  possibility  to  composition  turns  upon 


134    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

these  differences.  The  greater  its  heterogeneity,  the  greater  its 
instability,  the  more  rapid  its  metabolism,  the  quicker  its  reaction 
of  release  or  of  inhibition,  the  more  indeterminate  is  possibility: 
the  greater  is  the  number  of  possible  happenings  constructive  or 
destructive,  good  or  bad,  to,  in  or  by  a  composite  body :  the  greater 
is  what  the  untutored  man  and  the  philosopher  (without  col- 
lusion) call  its  "freedom"  or  its  "liberty,"  or,  perhaps,  its  "self- 
determination." 

Component  bodies  may  not  only  be  different  in  kind  but  also  be 
unequal,  in  age,  size,  energy,  attribute  or  condition.  If  numerous, 
some  of  them  may  be  equal  among  themselves,  while  superior  or 
inferior  to  others.  Equals  are  said  to  be  coordinate,  superiors 
to  be  superordinate  (a  super  order)  and  inferiors  subordinate  (a 
sub  order).  Planets  are  approximately  coordinate;  suns  by  com- 
parison with  planets  are  superordinate,  and  satellites,  by  com- 
parison with  planets  are  subordinate.  These  distinctions  may  be 
categorical  only,  or  they  may  appear  in  a  concrete  arrangement, 
a  hierarchy  of  ranks.  The  solar  system  is  such  an  arrangement, 
so  is  the  hierarchy  of  living  bodies,  from  bacteria  to  man.  For 
brevity,  hierarchical  arrangement  is  called  "coordination,"  super- 
ordination  and  subordination  being  assumed.  In  human  society 
throughout  history  coordination  has  been  a  phenomenon  of  com- 
manding importance.  Hierarchies  of  priests,  bishops,  and  arch- 
bishops; of  private  soldiers,  officers  and  commanders;  of  serfs, 
freemen  and  nobles;  of  wage  earners,  capitalists  and  magnates, 
have  ordered  and  determined  human  life. 

The  sciences,  as  Comte  discerned  and  contended,  are  hierarchi- 
cally related.  The  progress  of  knowledge,  however,  has  neces- 
sitated a  revision  of  the  order  that  he  set  down,  and  new  designa- 
tions. The  series  as  it  now  stands  is:  mechanics,  electro-physics 
and  electro-chemistry,  chemistry,  thermo-dynamics,  astronomy 
and  geology  (these  two  are  complexes  of  the  preceding  four), 
biology,  psychology,  anthropology,  ethnology,  archaeology,  history, 
and  sociology. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  offer  evidence  that  coordination  determines 
and  limits  possibility.  The  proposition  is  obvious,  and  vivid  to 
human  experience. 

So  far  we  have  looked  at  static  order,  and  its  determination  of 


ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY  135 

possibility.    When  we  turn  to  observe  the  happening  that  we  call 
mechanistic  reaction,  we  concern  ourselves  with  kinetic  order. 

Every  reaction  that  can  be  identified  and  measured  by  organs 
of  sense  is  mechanistic.  If  anywhere  in  the  material  universe 
there  is  a  going  on,  or  creative  evolution,  that  is  not  mechanistic, 
it  belongs  to  a  realm  of  things  not  seen  except  through  Alice's  (or 
other  philosophers')  looking-glass.  Conceding  the  perspicacity  of 
Alice,  and'  admitting  that  explanation  of  brain  functioning,  or 
even  of  digestion,  in  mechanistic  terms  has  not  yet  been  achieved 
completely,  the  scientific  inquirer  asks  people  who  make  them- 
selves responsible  for  theories  of  human  behavior  not  to  pro- 
nounce achievement  impossible  and  not  to  accept  the  revelations 
of  the  speculative  glass  until  they  have  taken  the  trouble  to  learn 
what  "mechanistic  terms"  are  (and  are  not)  and  whether  the 
explanatory  possibilities  of  mechanistic  hypothesis  have  been 
exhausted. 

To  begin  then  with  terms,  or  conceptions,  what  is  the  order 
that  we  call  mechanistic?  Concisely,  it  is  a  system  of  equivalent 
sensible  changes.  And  what  is  it  not,  or  not  necessarily  or  al- 
ways ?  Concisely,  a  mechanistic  phenomenon  is  never  a  change  of 
nothing  into  something  or  of  something  into  nothing;  and  a  mech- 
anistic system  is  not  necessarily  or  always  machinistic;  more 
often  than  not  it  is  merely  ballistic. 

A  sensible  change  is  a  change  that  we  become  aware  of  through 
any  one  of  our  organs  of  sense,  or  through  any  combination  of 
them.  It  is  more  tangible  than  a  change  of  mind.  Sensible 
change  is  motion,  and  every  motion  is  equivalent  to  motion  out 
of  which  it  came,  and  to  motion  into  which  it  goes.  The  changing 
modes  or  kinds  of  motion  may  be  different  or  various ;  electronic, 
atomic,  molecular,  molar,  but  the  rule  of  equivalence  holds.  The 
mechanistic  order  of  the  material  universe  therefore  is  a  system 
of  equivalent  motions. 

This  proposition  means  the  same  thing  that  the  so-called  New- 
tonian laws  of  motion  mean,  namely  that  reaction  is  equal  to 
action  and  opposite  to  it  in  direction;  that  a  body  (or  particle) 
at  rest  remains  at  rest,  and  a  body  (or  particle)  in  motion  con- 
tinues in  motion  until  impelled,  drawn  or  impeded  from  without ; 
and  that  a  body  in  motion  moves  in  a  straight  line  until  deflected 


136    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

from  without.  The  proposition  is  equivalent  therefore  to  Spen- 
cer's affirmation  of  the  persistence  of  force.  It  is  equivalent  also 
to  the  law  of  the  so-called  degradation  of  energy,  of  which  more 
will  be  said  presently. 

But  it  does  not  follow  from  the  laws  of  motion  that  all  motion 
is  machinistic,  or  that  the  mechanistic  order  of  a  material  universe 
is  a  machine.  The  billiard  balls  on  a  table  where  men  are  playing 
are  not  a  machine,  and  their  motions,  while  strictly  mechanistic, 
are  never  machinistic.  The  material  universe  as  a  whole  is  not  a 
machine ;  parts  of  it  only  are  machines,  other  parts  are  in  process 
of  becoming  machines,  and  yet  other  parts  remain  wild  turbu- 
lences. Neglect  or  inability  to  apprehend  the  distinction  here 
made  accounts,  I  am  convinced,  for  most  of  the  antagonism  of 
"vitalistic"  biologists  and  "idealistic"  or  "spiritual"  sociologists  to 
mechanistic  explanations  of  the  life  processes  and  the  behavior 
of  material  organisms.  A  few  further  words  of  amplification 
and  illustration  may,  therefore,  be  helpful. 

A  machine  is  a  system  of  parts  so  tied  or  linked  together,  or  so 
coupled  or  geared,  or  otherwise  so  correlated  that  their  motions 
are  one  to  one  correspondences,  or  correspondences  within  limits 
of  error  that  are  negligible  in  prediction :  they  are  definitely  mech- 
anistic. In  contrast,  a  turbulence  (for  example  a  swirl  of  dust, 
a  tornado,  or  a  torrent)  is  an  assemblage  of  particles  or  larger 
units  that  move  freely  in  any  direction :  their  motions  are  indefi- 
nitely mechanistic.  A  solar  system  is  a  machine;  a  flaming  gas 
is  a  turbulence ;  a  nebula  is  a  turbulence  that  is  becoming  or  may 
become,  a  machine.  A  germ  cell,  a  brain,  a  politically  organized 
community,  is  half  turbulence  and  half  machine. 

In  a  system  that  has  become  a  machine  possibility  is  limited 
and  determined ;  in  a  turbulence  it  is  indeterminate. 

The  extent  to  which  mechanistic  order  limits  possibility  in 
particular  cases,  and  the  ways  or  modes  of  determination,  are  of 
cardinal  importance  to  students  of  social  theory.  Much  social 
theorizing  has  been  futile  because  of  neglect  to  master  them. 

Pretentious  social  philosophies  could  be  cited  (they  are  taught 
in  colleges),  the  makers  and  builders  of  which  unconsciously  and 
in  all  innocence  postulate  something  from  nothing  or  nothing 


ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY  137 

from  something,  because,  appalled  by  the  complexities,  they  will 
not  take  the  trouble  to  understand  the  simplicities  of  the  degrada- 
tion of  energy. 

This  expression  is  an  abbreviation  for:  the  dynamic  degrada- 
tion of  a  concrete  body  of  matter.  It  means  that  energy  "does 
something"  (it  "works")  only  when  a  delimited  portion  of  the 
"matter"  that  in  final  analysis  perhaps  is  energy,  or  that  "carries" 
energy,  or  is  charged  with  it,  falls  from  a  higher  to  a  lower  gravi- 
tational level,  like  water  from  a  dam ;  or  from  a  higher  to  a  lower 
tension,  like  an  uncoiling  watch  spring;  or  from  a  higher  to  a 
lower  temperature,  like  expanding  steam  back  of  a  piston  head ; 
or  from  a  higher  to  a  lower  magnetic  state,  like  the  reacting  arma- 
ture of  a  dynamo;  or  from  a  more  to  a  less  unstable  equilibrium, 
like  an  exploding  mixture. 

The  energy  content  of  matter  not  yet  dynamically  degraded  is 
rightly  called  "potential."  It  is  unexpended,  and  ready  to  do 
something.  Energy  doing  something  is  called  kinetic.  The  por- 
tion of  matter  that  carried  it  is  losing  it,  and  so  is  undergoing 
dynamic  degradation.  The  energy  content  of  matter  that  at  pres- 
ent can  undergo  no  further  dynamic  degradation  is  wrongly  called 
"potential,"  apparently  for  no  better  reason  than  that  it  is  not 
kinetic.  It  has  become,  in  fact,  impotential. 

It  has  become  impotential,  and  the  portion  of  matter  now  car- 
rying it  can  undergo  no  further  dynamic  degradation,  because  the 
energy  content  of  that  particular  body  of  matter  is  now  in  equilib- 
rium with  the  energy  content  of  matter  round  about  it.  Equi- 
librium is  inertness. 

So,  it  turns  out,  the  degradation  of  energy  is  "the  equilibration 
of  energy."  This  expression  also  is  an  abbreviation.  It  means: 
the  equilibration  of  the  energy  content  of  bodies  of  matter  so 
placed  in  relation  to  one  another  that  energy  (molar  motion,  or 
molecular  motion,  or  atomic  motion,  or  electronic  motion)  can 
and  does  flow  from  the  more  highly  charged  to  the  less  highly 
charged  body. 

Inasmuch  as  this  process  is  finite  and  relative,  it  follows  that 
when  we  say  of  a  delimited  portion  of  matter  a  that  it  can  un- 
dergo no  further  dynamic  degradation,  we  mean  that  a  can  suffer 
no  such  further  degradation  under  existing  states  of  environing 


i38    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

matter  b.  If  the  energy  content  of  b  at  any  time  suffers  depletion, 
a  in  contact  with  b  can  be  further  degraded,  and  its  contained 
energy  will  then  become  potential  or  kinetic.  Furthermore,  a 
dynamically  degraded  material  body  or  "closed  system"  of  matter 
can  be  recharged  with  potential  energy  from  without,  if  energy 
from  supercharged  bodies  hitherto  shut  off  from  it  can  be  trans- 
mitted to  it  and  suitably  transformed.  The  mill  can  grind  again 
with  water  thai  has  passed  if  sun  energy  lifts  it  to  the  clouds  to 
fall  in  rain  above  the  dam.  The  watch  spring  can  be  wound,  and 
the  exhausted  steam  can  be  passed  again  through  the  boiler. 

In  this  process,  however,  further  rules  of  order  are  encoun- 
tered which  set  new  limits  to  possibility.  In  transformation  and 
transmission  energy  is  lost,  not  out  of  the  universe,  but  out  of 
concrete  material  bodies,  the  charging  or  supercharging  of  which 
is  work.  The  ratio  of  work  to  loss  (i.e.  to  waste)  increases  up  to 
a  point  experimentally  ascertained.  It  then  diminishes  until, 
presently,  waste  increases  faster  than  work.  These  differential 
ratios  of  loss,  waste,  or  "cost"  to  work  accomplished,  are  en- 
countered throughout  natural  phenomena  and  human  industry, 
and  are  known  as  laws  of  increasing  and  diminishing  return. 
They  were  first  brought  to  attention  by  economists,  and  all  scien- 
tific economy  is  founded  on  them.  Economists  of  the  paradoxical 
school  who  deny  them  do  not  know  their  elementary  physics  and 
talk  nonsense.  Economists  who  acknowledge  these  laws  but 
teach  that  they  are  unimportant  to  "up-to-date"  man'  because 
invention  diminishes  waste,  and  discovery  from  time  to  time  finds 
new  sources  of  potential  energy,  never  squarely  face  the  real 
dilemma,  which  is,  that  inventions  which  diminish  waste  and  tap 
hitherto  unknown  stores  of  potential  energy  call  for  the  use  of 
very  special  substances,  for  example  high  grade  steels,  fine  cop- 
per, nickel,  platinum,  and  so  on  to  uranium  and  radium,  all  of 
which  as  our  present  knowledge  goes,  are  of  limited  supply,  and 
some  of  which  are  excessively  rare. 

Whether  the  future  will  bring  reassurance  no  one  can  predict. 
At  present  mankind  is  wastefully  using  up  and  wantonly  de- 
stroying available  sources  of  potential  energy :  coal,  oil,  gas,  for- 
ests, and  entire  species  of  plant  and  animal  life  that  are  the  con- 
verters of  sunlight  and  sun  heat  into  foods  on  which  the  human 


ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY  139 

race  can  subsist.  To  conserve  them  is  becoming  the  most  im- 
perative of  obligations. 

While  the  equilibration  of  energy  limits  possibility  quantita- 
tively, it  also  determines  the  modes  and  forms  of  possibility,  and 
this  qualitative  process  is  evolution. 

When  a  delimited  aggregation  of  matter  (gaseous,  liquid  or 
solid)  is  losing  molecular  motion  (radiating  heat  into  environing 
matter  of  a  lower  temperature,  as  molten  metal  does  in  cooling), 
it  condenses  or,  using  Mr.  Spencer's  term,  it  "integrates."  At 
the  same  time,  different  parts  of  it  become  unlike  one  another  in 
various  ways,  because  radiation  proceeds  at  unequal  rates  from 
different  surface  areas  and  from  the  surface  and  the  interior  of 
the  mass ;  and  because  different  areas  and  interior  parts  are  vari- 
ously played  upon  by  energies  from  without.  The  cooling  metal 
wrinkles,  and  may  twist  or  crack.  The  influences  that  bring  about 
"differentiation"  bring  about  also  sortings  and  assimilations  of 
molecules  and  their  compounds.  Units  of  like  weight  and  shape 
get  thrown  together,  as  stones  do  in  one  place,  pebbles  in  another 
place  and  sand  in  another  place  along  the  roadside  during  a  rain. 
This  assorting  Mr.  Spencer  called  "segregation."  It  is  supple- 
mented by  a  deeper  change  which  he  failed  to  name  in  his  formula. 
Just  as  units  differently  reacting  to  incidental  energies  become 
increasingly  different,  so  do  units  similarly  reacting  become  in- 
creasingly alike — they  are  assimilated — and  this  phase  of  the  evo- 
lutionary process  is  important  in  the  phenomena  of  life  and  be- 
havior. It  is  especially  significant  for  the  student  of  social 
theory. 

These  four  consequences  of  the  equilibration  of  molecular 
energy,  namely  integration,  differentiation,  segregation  and  as- 
similation, make  up  mechanistic  evolution  in  its  simple  or  primary 
phase.  Mr.  Spencer,  who  first  apprehended  and  described  it, 
described  also  a  secondary  phase,  or  compound  evolution,  which 
occurs  when  the  integrating  aggregate  is  taking  in  molecular  mo- 
tion from  without  while  losing  it  from  within,  as  the  earth,  for 
example,  gets  heat  from  the  sun  while  radiating  it  into  space, 
and  as  living  bodies  while  expending  their  energies  take  in  fresh 
stores,  in  the  foods  on  which  they  subsist.  The  total  loss  of 
energy  in  these  cases  exceeds  the  total  intake  (when  the  ratio  is 


140    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

reversed  dissolution  begins)  but  evolution  is  slowed  down,  and 
secondary  differentiations  and  segregations  are  multiplied  through 
internal  redistributions  of  energy. 

All  of  these  changes  conform  quantitatively  to  the  laws  of  in- 
creasing and  diminishing  return,  which,  therefore,  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word  are  the  laws,  as  distinguished  from  the  general 
description  or  formula,  of  mechanistic  evolution.1 

Yet  another  phase  of  evolution  not  described,  or  named,  by 
Mr.  Spencer,  is  even  more  important  for  biology,  psychology  and 
sociology  than  assimilation  is. 

The  equilibration  of  molecular  motion  with  which  mechanistic 
evolution  begins  is  an  extra  or  an  inter  equilibration.  It  occurs, 
as  has  been  said,  between  a  delimited  aggregation  of  material 
units  and  matter  extraneous.  There  is  also,  however,  from  the 
first,  an  infra  equilibration:  an  equalizing  of  molecular  motion 
between  each  differentiated  part  and  every  other  part,  between 
each  group  of  segregated  units  and  every  other  group,  within  the 
aggregate. 

Mr.  Spencer  saw  and  was  at  pains  to  explain  the  redistributions 
of  internal  motion  that  go  on  step  by  step  with  the  integration  of 
matter  and  the  differentiation  of  its  groupings,  and  the  conse- 
quent multiplication  of  effects ;  and  he  insisted  on  the  importance 
of  adequate  time  for  the  completion  of  redistribution  as  a  factor 
in  the  evolution  of  high  types  of  structure  and  function.  He  did 
not  discover  that  among  multiplying  effects  intra  equilibration 
creates  a  mechanism  and  sustains  a  process  of  internal  control  of 
evolution,  that  is  quite  as  important  as  external  controls.  In 
living  matter,  in  nervous  systems,  and  in  political  society  it  is 
often  more  important. 

The  equilibration  of  energy  between  the  sun  and  the  planets 
more  directly  and  more  intensively  than  equilibration  between  the 
solar  system  as  a  whole  and  whatever  fills  the  spaces  beyond  it 
has  controlled  the  development  of  planetary  surfaces,  of  hydro- 
graphic  and  atmospheric  changes,  and  the  evolution  of  life. 
Equilibration  within  the  cell  as  much  as  equilibration  between  cell 
and  environment  determines  all  that  is  characteristic  of  living 
matter  both  in  structure  and  in  function.  Equilibration  between 

1Giddings,  "The  Laws  of  Evolution,"  Science,  August  18,  1905. 


ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY  141 

the  central  nervous  system  and  other  organs  and  tissues  creates 
the  characteristic  controls  of  behavior.  In  the  evolution  of  po- 
litically organized  nations  extra  and  inter  equilibrations  take  the 
form  of  war  and  conquests,  while  intra  equilibrations  appear  as 
class  struggles  and  revolutions.  Governments  and  their  functions 
are  products  of  equilibrations  between  a  relatively  small  group  of 
alert  and  persistent  men  reacting  to  situations,  and  a  relatively 
large  mass  of  men  that  are  inert  and  ineffective. 

Development  of  internal  structures  and  controls  in  living  bodies 
produces  numerous  machines ;  among  which  the  articulated  skele- 
ton, the  circulatory  apparatus,  and  the  central  nervous  system,  are 
outstanding  examples  that  everybody  in  a  measure  understands. 
Many  of  them,  the  organs  of  sense  preeminently,  are  complicated 
and  delicate,  but  their  performance  is  not  often  the  precise  one- 
to-one  correspondence  that  we  look  for  in  machines  made  by  man. 
The  reason  for  deviation  is  highly  significant.  Organic  machines 
are  automatically  adaptable  to  changing  conditions  to  a  degree 
that  artificial  machines  do  not  attain. 

The  apparatus  of  heredity  and  of  mutation  is  machine-like  in 
form  but  is  ballistic  in  performance ;  except  in  one  particular,  if 
the  non-inheritance  of  characters  acquired  after  birth  turns  out 
to  be  a  one  hundred  per  cent  correlation.  The  Mendelian  propor- 
tions in  which  the  traits  of  two  ancestral  lines  are  transmitted  are 
a  high  but  not  a  perfect  correlation.  Mutation  apparently  is  con- 
tingent upon  "cross  overs"  of  chromosome  halves,  but  these  may 
be  brought  about  in  more  than  one  accidental  way,  as  well  as  by 
experimental  predetermination.  As  a  general  proposition  we  can 
say  that  heredity  is  a  relatively  strict  determination  and  limitation 
of  biological  possibility,  while  mutation  is  relatively  indeterminate. 

A  similar  general  proposition  holds  true  in  the  domain  of  be- 
havioristic  psychology.  Behavior  is  a  function  of  two  variables, 
namely,  stimulation  and  the  performance  of  a  reaction  apparatus. 
Development  of  the  reaction  apparatus  including  internal  controls, 
limits  and  defines  the  possibilities  of  behavior.  Stimulation  is 
indeterminate,  and  forever  will  be. 

At  this  point  it  is  interesting  to  inquire  why  mankind  has  always 
more  or  less  resented  the  proposition  that  life  is  mechanistic,  and, 
has  clung  to  "free  will"  in  the  realm  of  conduct.  The  usual 


142     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

answer,  that  we  like  to  believe  that  we  are  "spiritual"  beings  and 
"responsible,"  is  more  orthodox  than  informing.  If  the  evolu- 
tionist biology  is  substantially  trustworthy  the  true  answer,  it 
would  seem,  must  be  that  this  prejudice  is  a  by-product  of  the 
adjustment  of  life  to  a  world  in  which  luck  plays  its  part  against 
certainty ;  in  which  correlation  is  not  always  one  hundred  per  cent ; 
in  which  the  mechanistic  is  as  often  ballistic  as  machinistic.  As- 
suming that  such  adjustment  has  been  under  way  from  the  be- 
ginning, it  is  not  surprising  that  man  likes  it.  He  may  flatter 
himself  that  he  likes  it  because  he  experiences  exaltation  (not  to 
mention  self-esteem)  when  he  freely  chooses  the  true  and  the 
good,  but,  notoriously,  he  likes  it  no  less  well  when  he  chooses 
the  false  and  the  bad. 

In  a  famous  passage  Mr.  Huxley  said : 

"I  protest  that  if  some  great  power  would  agree  to  make  me  always 
think  what  is  true  and  do  what  is  right,  on  condition  of  being  turned 
into  a  sort  of  clock  and  wound  up  every  morning  before  I  got  out  of 
bed,  I  should  instantly  close  with  the  offer.  The  only  freedom  I  care 
about  is  the  freedom  to  do  right;  the  freedom  to  do  wrong  I  am  ready 
to  part  with  on  the  cheapest  terms  to  any  one  who  will  take  it  of  me."  * 

Without  abatement  of  respect  for  one  of  the  clearest-headed 
men  that  ever  lived,  I  protest  that  Mr.  Huxley  did  not  think 
what  is  true,  in  this  instance.  Man  wants  freedom  both  to  do 
right  and  to  sin,  to  know  and  to  guess  wrong,  as  may  happen,  no 
less  than  as  he,  in  his  self-determination  may  choose;  and  he 
wants  this  large  freedom  (immeasurably  wider  than  "moral" 
freedom)  because  he  is  so  made  up  and  adapted  that  he  craves, 
with  a  modicum  of  certainty,  a  large  measure  of  chance.  He  is 
glad  to  know  that  summer  will  follow  winter,  an  important  matter 
of  course,  but  he  is  not  less  glad  that  when  it  does  follow  he  again 
will  bet  on  the  horse  race,  the  stock  market  and  the  election. 
Above  all,  he  wants  adventure,  of  thought,  decision  and  experi- 
ence. He  swells  with  self-determination,  relying  on  his  own 
apparatus  of  internal  controls,  but  he  could  never  again  be  happy 
if  he  were  deprived  of  his  self-indetermination.  He  wants  to 

1  Essay  On  Descartes  "Discourse  Touching  the ^  Method  of  Using  One's 
Reason  Rightly  and  of  Seeking  Scientific  Truth." 


ORDER  AND  POSSIBILITY  143 

change  his  mind  when  he  wants  to,  and  to  go  back  for  his  um- 
brella. 

Well,  he  always  will.  He  lives  in  a  world  in  which,  for  all  we 
know,  reaction  mechanisms  may  become  machines  as  perfect  as 
Huxley's  hypothetical  clock,  except  that  they  will  have  to  be 
played  on  by  stimuli  instead  of  wound,  and  that  the  stimuli  will 
swirl  forever  in  turbulences,  and  play  pranks. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  CAUSATION 

USING  the  word  "causation"  in  the  stricter  of  the  meanings 
defended  in  Chapter  VII,  and  assuming,  in  accordance  with  it, 
that  social  causes  are  stimulations  that  call  forth  pluralistic  reac- 
tions of  a  particular  kind  or  of  various  kinds,  I  shall  attempt  in 
this  chapter  to  examine  the  phenomena  of  social  causation  from 
the  standpoint  of  stimulation,  and  in  Chapter  IX  to  describe  them 
in  terms  of  response.  In  the  remaining  chapters  of  this  Part,  I 
shall  look  at  stimulations  and  responses,  actions  and  reactions,  as 
concretely  inseparable  in  pluralistic  behavior. 

I  have  before  me  a  pile  of  newspaper  accounts  of  assemblings 
of  human  beings,  from  small  gatherings  to  great  crowds.  In  one 
hundred  and  thirty-one  instances  the  occasions,  circumstances, 
situations  or  other  stimulations  which  brought  the  participants 
together  have  been  stated  by  the  reporters.  These  stimulations 
are  most  various  but  fall  into  classification  as  follows:  natural 
resources  of  a  geographical  place  or  region,  4 ;  drought,  2 ;  storm, 
i ;  conflagration,  2 ;  epidemic,  i ;  war,  8 ;  insurrection,  10 ;  minor 
occurrences  of  human  origin,  87;  personal  example,  appeal,  or 
intimidation,  16. 

Here,  obviously,  are  two  contrasted  kinds  of  stimuli  namely, 
static  situations  consisting  chiefly  or  perhaps  wholly  of  regional 
influences  changing  so  slowly  that  change  is  negligible,  and  kinetic 
situations  consisting  of  regional  changes  disturbing  to  mankind, 
and  of  other  circumstantial  influences.  The  circumstantial  in- 
fluences are  divisible  into  a,  those  consisting  of  physical  factors 
only  or  chiefly  (drought,  storm,  conflagration,  epidemic),  and  b, 
those  consisting  of  human  factors  only  or  chiefly  (war,  insurrec- 
tion, minor  occurrences  of  human  origin  and  personal  example, 
appeal  and  intimidation). 

Also,  obviously,  the  stimuli  here  classified  are  of  two  orders, 
primary  and  secondary.  The  influences  that  consist  wholly  or 

144 


MS 

chiefly  of  human  factors  are  products  of  past  responses  to  ante- 
cedent stimulations.  The  numerical  preponderance  of  these  cases 
in  our  data  indicates  that  a  major  part  of  all  pluralistic  behavior 
is  provoked  by  secondary  stimuli,  and  this  we  know  (by  every  day 
observation)  to  be  true.  The  very  arrangements  under  which  we 
live,  the  groupings  and  the  doings  of  our  fellow  men,  their  ideas 
and  purposes,  their  laws  and  institutions,  are  ever  present,  ever 
potent  causes  of  continuing  collective  action.  But  back  of  all 
secondary  stimuli,  products  of  past  social  life,  are  primary  or 
original  stimuli  presented  to  every  mind  by  the  multiplicity  and 
presence  of  fellow  beings,  by  the  events  and  the  order  of  nature, 
and  by  the  concrete  objects  of  nature.  These  collectively  are  the 
environment,  human  and  physical,  and  the  human  is  determined 
by  the  physical.  As  physical  environments  differ  in  fundamental 
character  and  in  complexity,  so  differ  the  original  stimuli  to 
which  the  minds  of  men  respond  in  pluralistic  behavior,  including 
collective  action. 

Accepting  the  .distinctions  that  have  been  drawn  between  static 
and  kinetic  situations,  and  between  primary  and  secondary  stimuli 
we  apprehend  the  prime  requirement  laid  upon  social  theory.  A 
scientific  theory  of  social  causation  must  first  give  full  recogni- 
tion and  weight  to  the  facts  (i)  that  regional  influences  of  the 
static  sort  usually  stimulate  behavior  (when  they  do  stimulate  it) 
through  a  medium  of  circumstance  rather  than  immediately,  and 
(2)  that  all  stimuli  of  the  primary  order,  including  regional 
changes,  usually  stimulate  behavior  (when  they  do  stimulate  it) 
through  a  social  medium  created  by  antecedent  stimulation. 
Theory  must  then  determine  what  are  the  possibilities  and  limits 
of  response  to  primary  stimulation,  and,  thereby,  determine  the 
possibilities  and  limits  of  secondary  stimulation. 

In  trying  to  formulate  (at  least  tentatively)  a  theory  scientific 
according  to  these  specifications,  we  necessarily  begin  with  an  at- 
tempt to  discover  what  features  of  the  physical  habitat  of  a 
human  population  are  significant,  and  through  what  channels 
or  groupings  of  concrete  fact  they  exert  their  controlling  influence. 

The  earlier  theories  of  the  relation  of  environment  to  national 
life  and  character  placed  emphasis  upon  the  direct  influence  of 
soil,  climate  and  topography  upon  mental  and  institutional  life. 


146    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

•Montesquieu  hardly  got  beyond  this  simple  view  of  the  prob- 
lem. He  attributes  a  relatively  great  boldness  to  the  inhabitants 
of  cold  climates,  and  to  boldness  he  attributes  frankness  and  a 
lack  of  suspicion  and  cunning.  To  the  enervating  influence  of 
great  heat,  and  the  deliciousness  of  rest  in  a  hot  climate,  he  at- 
tributes the  belief  of  the  Hindoo  that  "repose  and  non-existence 
are  the  foundation  of  all  things,  and  the  end  in  which  they  termi- 
nate." From  these  temperamental  effects  of  climate  Montesquieu 
thought  that  he  could  derive  systems  of  laws  and  institutions.  His 
observations,  nevertheless,  were  keen  and  significant,  and  doubt- 
less much  important  scientific  work  is  yet  to  be  done  in  following 
out  the  suggestions  in  which  the  Esprit  des  Lois  abounds. 

Buckle,  perceiving  that  the  action  of  environment  upon  national 
life  is  more  complex  than  Montesquieu  represented  it,  laid  em- 
phasis upon  those  influences  of  nature  that  develop  on  the  one  hand 
the  emotional,  on  the  other  hand  the  intellectual  habit.  Regions 
in  which  nature  is  uncertain,  violent  and  destructive,  especially 
where  earthquakes,  volcanic  catastrophies  and  tempests  abound, 
inspire  terror  and  superstition,  and  thereby  unfit  the  mind  for 
scientific  research  and  for  the  systematic  conquest  of  the  external 
world.  Regions  that  are  tractable,  having  seldom  more  startling 
occurrences  than  the  regular  succession  of  seasons  and  the  rela- 
tively mild  storms  of  the  temperate  zones,  awaken  an  intellectual 
interest;  and  by  suggesting  a  constant  order  in  nature,  they  lead 
the  mind  on  to  scientific  comprehension.  Buckle  also  made  the 
distinction  between  primary  and  secondary  civilizations,  and  drew 
attention  to  the  exceeding  importance  of  the  relation  existing  be- 
tween any  secondary  civilization  and  that  environment  which  is 
human  and  historical  rather  than  physical.  So,  clearly  enough, 
although  without  psychological  analysis,  Buckle  discriminates  be- 
tween static  regional  influences  and  kinetic  or  circumstantial  in- 
fluences, and  between  primary  and  secondary  stimulations. 

Herbert  Spencer,  in  the  first  volume  of  his  Principles  of  So- 
ciology, comprehensively  reviews  the  influence  of  climates  and 
topographies  upon  the  emotional  and  the  intellectual  natures  of 
men,  and  he  calls  especial  attention  to  the  relation  of  the  flora  and 
the  fauna  to  the  possibilities  of  social  evolution.  He  lays  chief 
stress,  however,  upon  the  human  environment,  since  it  is  in  the 


A  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  CAUSATION  14? 

relation  of  a  tribe  or  a  nation  to  its  stronger  or  weaker  neighbors 
that  the  causes  determining  its  type  of  organization  as  military  or 
industrial,  seem  to  him  to  be  found. 

In  the  writings  of  Ratzell  and  of  Ellen  Churchill  Semple  we 
have  expert  studies  extending  and  correcting  our  knowledge  of 
the  influence  of  persisting  geographical  features — including  oceans 
and  seas,  islands  and  continents,  coastal  plains,  river  basins  and 
mountain  systems — upon  the  distribution  and  the  pursuits  of 
mankind.  Ellsworth  Huntington's  studies  of  the  profound  and 
varied  effects  of  the  major  rhythms  of  heat  and  cold,  rainfall  and 
dessication,  upon  the  mutation,  selective  winnowing  and  migration 
of  the  human  species  have  laid  foundations  of  scientific  history. 

In  studies  that  have  taken  the  form  of  an  economic  interpreta- 
tion of  history,  it  is  an  indirect  rather  than  a  direct  action  of  the 
environment  that  finds  recognition.  Situation  and  resources 
mould  the  social  organization ;  first,  by  determining  the  character 
of  the  predominant  industries;  and,  secondly,  by  determining  the 
prevailing  form  of  property,  as  real  estate  or  free  capital. 

The  theory  that  I  submit  here  differs  from  all  of  these,  but 
more  by  addition  or  supplement  than  by  disagreement.  I  suggest 
that  the  really  significant  phenomenon  is  found  in  the  relation  of 
the  physical  environment  to  the  composition  of  its  population. 
My  propositions  are,  first,  that  the  character  of  the  environment 
determines  the  composition  of  a  population  as  more  or  less 
heterogeneous,  more  or  less  compound;  and  second,  that  the 
composition  of  the  population  determines  the  character,  the  com- 
plexity and  the  range,  of  its  reactions  to  stimulation. 

To  develop  these  propositions,  let  us  begin  with  a  phenomenon 
very  simple,  very  obvious,  yet  very  far-reaching  in  its  conse- 
quences. A  physical  environment  has,  or  it  has  not,  the  power 
to  attract  inhabitants  to  itself  and  to  keep  them.  In  America  we 
have  witnessed  the  most  remarkable  example  in  human  history  of 
this  immediate  relation  of  population  to  environment.  By  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  men  and  women  from  the  older  lands  have 
been  drawn  here  by  the  bounty  of  nature,  underlying  that  varied 
economic  opportunity  which  this  nation  affords  to  its  people. 
Quite  as  striking  as  the  mere  numbers  of  immigrants  to  America, 
however,  is  the  varied  composition  of  our  foreign-born  popula- 


148     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

tion.  Every  nationality  is  included.  But  the  geographical  dis- 
tribution of  the  foreign  born  has  brought  about  a  marked  differ- 
ence of  one  region  from  another  in  degree  of  compositeness.  The 
North  Atlantic  division  is  heterogeneous  in  the  extreme.  The 
North  Central  division  is  relatively  homogeneous,  and  the  white 
population  of  the  South  Atlantic  and  South  Central  divisions  is 
highly  homogeneous. 

Environments  are  of  two  fundamental  types  in  respect  of  their 
power  to  maintain  society ;  those  that  are  so  poorly  endowed  with 
resources  that  they  can  maintain  and  attract  only  relatively  small 
numbers  of  inhabitants,  and  those  that,  being  richly  endowed, 
support  large  populations  of  the  native  born,  and  tend  to  draw  a 
large  immigration  from  elsewhere.  Each  of  these  types  of  en- 
vironment, in  turn,  presents  two  well-marked  subdivisions:  the 
isolated,  or  difficult  of  access  or  of  egress;  and  the  accessible,  a 
land  of  ports  and  open  ways,  through  which  the  currents  of 
population  may  easily  flow. 

The  composition  of  the  population  can  by  no  possibility  be  the 
same  in  these  four  types  of  environment.  That  which  is  charac- 
teristic of  one  is  unattainable  in  another. 

In  the  environment  that  is  both  poor  and  isolated,  population  is 
not  only  sparse,  but  it  is  relatively  simple  and  homogeneous  in 
composition.  The  struggle  for  existence  is  severe  and  the  death 
rate  of  infancy  and  of  age  is  high.  A  relatively  large  proportion 
of  the  living,  therefore,  is  found  in  the  middle  age  frequencies. 
The  sexes  are  approximately  equal  numerically,  unless  female 
infanticide  prevails.  This  population  is  maintained  only  by  its 
birth  rate,  and  it  increases  only  if  its  birth  rate  is  in  excess  of  its 
death  rate.  It  is  a  genetic  aggregation,  and  is  ethnically  of  one 
kind.  Extreme  examples  of  this  environment  and  of  the  structure 
of  its  population  are  afforded  by  the  coasts  of  Greenland,  the 
Aleutian  Islands,  the  southern  extremity  of  South  America,  and 
the  interior  regions  of  Australia. 

In  the  environment  that  is  poor  but  accessible,  or,  what  in  this 
instance  is  more  to  the  point,  admits  of  easy  egress,  the  population 
again  is  a  genetic  aggregation.  The  attractions  and  inducements 
are  not  sufficient  to  bring  immigration.  But  neither  are  they  suffi- 
cient in  all  cases  to  keep  the  men  born  within  its  borders,  and, 


A  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  CAUSATION  149 

escape  being  relatively  easy,  many  of  the  most  energetic  emigrate 
to  better  lands,  leaving  not  only  unmarried  women,  but  often  also 
young  mothers  and  children,  and  old  people  of  both  sexes.  Here, 
in  the  concrete,  the  process  of  selection  is  seen  going  on  through 
reaction  to  stimulus.  The  resources  of  other  environments  in 
some  degree  awaken  the  desire  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  im- 
poverished land,  but  only  those  that  are  relatively  enterprising 
and  energetic  are  moved  to  better  their  condition.  The  result  is  a 
gradual  deterioration  of  the  stock  remaining  in  the  land.  It  is 
bred  from  the  leavings  that  have  been  incapable  of  efficiently 
responding  to  the  stimulus  of  larger  opportunities.  The  most 
interesting  modern  examples  of  such  environments  are  those  ex- 
tensive tracts  of  upland  or  hill  country  in  the  North  Atlantic 
states  that  once  had  prosperous  farming  populations,  but-now  are 
inhabited  only  by  unambitious  families  presenting  the  unmistak- 
able marks  of  degeneration. 

The  third  type  of  environment  is  that  which  is  both  rich  in 
resources  and  relatively  isolated  or  inaccessible.  Parts  of 
the  Arabian  peninsula,  the  Hawaiian  Islands,  the  Samoan  Islands, 
and  the  islands  of  Tahiti,  are  good  examples.  So  also  are  the 
uplands  of  Mexico  and  Peru.  Here  again  the  population  is  a 
great  kinship,  a  genetic  aggregation.  It  is  relatively  dense.  The 
birth  rate  is  high,  and  every  inequality  of  energy  or  ability  counts 
in  the  struggle  for  existence.  The  people  alike  respond  to  the 
bounty  of  nature  and  develop  those  simple  forms  of  economic 
activity  that  often  are  sufficient  to  create  a  fair  degree  of  pros- 
perity. The  isolation  of  such  a  population  while  it  lasts  deter- 
mines the  whole  course  of  social  evolution,  but  it  is  relative. 
Sooner  or  later,  or  perhaps  repeatedly  at  long  intervals,  it  yields 
to  migration.  An  increasing  pressure  of  the  native  born  upon  the 
means  of  subsistence  at  length  forces  some  of  the  more  vigorous 
elements  to  break  through  confining  barriers,  and  as  conquerors, 
or  otherwise,  to  seek  distant  homes ;  or  the  natural  resources  and 
the  acquired  prosperity  enjoyed  by  the  inhabitants  become  a 
stimulus  of  sufficient  power  to  tempt  distant  populations  to  in- 
vade and  exploit. 

There  remain  environments  of  the  fourth  type,  richly  bountiful 
in  resources  and  so  accessible  that  men  may  flock  to  them  from  all 


ISO    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

quarters  of  the  world.  Such  are  the  great  river  valleys  of  the 
Nile  and  the  Euphrates,  seats  of  the  most  ancient  civilizations ;  of 
the  Po,  the  Danube  and  the  Rhine,  highways  of  the  nations  from 
an  immemorial  past ;  of  the  Seine  and  the  Thames ;  and,  in  our 
own  land,  the  Mississippi  basin.  Such  also  are  many  favored 
coasts,  abounding  in  inlets  and  sheltering  ports.  In  all  such  en- 
vironments population  must  sooner  or  later  be  composite,  nor- 
mally so  in  age  and  sex,  and  variedly  so  in  blood,  and  the  more  so 
if  their  resources  are  not  only  abundant,  but  also  varied. 

The"  composition,  however,  is  determined  in  the  long  run  by 
two  cooperating  processes.  Aboriginal  populations  are  overrun 
by  invaders,  who  come  not  as  individuals,  but  as  organized  bands, 
or  armies  equipped  for  conquest.  Populations  that  have  attained 
a  measure  of  economic  advancement  are  now  and  again  overrun 
by  hosts  of  ruder  people  that  have  been  dwelling  in  relatively 
unkindly  habitats.  Further  conquests  also  may  follow,  after 
civilization  has  been  attained  by  both  the  invaders  and  the  in- 
vaded, if  the  civilization  of  the  invaders  is  still  of  the  military 
type.  When,  however,  industrial  civilizations  of  the  modern  type 
have  been  reached,  further  migration  is  a  movement  of  in- 
dividuals. 

It  happens,  therefore,  that  with  few,  if  any,  exceptions  the  popu- 
lations of  the  most  favored  environments  are  both  compound  and 
composite;  compound  as  being  made  up  of  successive  strata  of 
conquered  and  conquerors,  and  composite,  as  being  made  up  of 
immigrant  individuals  scattered  among  the  native-born.  In  time 
all  of  these  elements  are  in  some  degree  amalgamated.  The 
amalgamation  of  invaded  and  invaders,  however,  is  determined 
largely  by  the  physical  characteristics  of  the  region  itself.  If 
they  are  such  as  to  tempt  the  invaders  to  scatter  themselves 
throughout  the  land  as  local  overlords,  while  at  the  same  time 
maintaining  a  general  distribution  of  the  invaded  or  conquered, 
the  possibilities  of  amalgamation  are  far  greater  than  when  for 
any  reason  either  stratum  is  geographically  concentrated.  This 
seems  to  have  been  the  history  of  the  thorough-going  amalgama- 
tion of  Celtic  and  Teutonic  elements  in  the  midland  and  western 
counties  of  England. 

When  an  immigration  of  individuals  begins  to  bring  important 


A  THEORY  OF  SOCIAL  CAUSATION  151 

additions  to  a  compound  population,  the  foreign-born  element 
itself  may  be  more  or  less  composite.  And  this  circumstance 
again  is  determined  by  the  character  of  the  physical  environment. 
If  the  natural  resources,  while  great,  are  all  of  one  kind,  and 
especially  if  they  are  predominantly  agricultural,  the  inhabitants 
are  far  more  homogeneous  than  if  the  resources  are  in  mineral 
wealth,  or,  above  all,  if  they  are  varied,  including  commercial  and 
manufacturing  opportunities.  Practically,  however,  an  environ- 
ment of  homogeneous  resources  is  usually  but  part  of  a  larger 
geographic  unity  that  is  occupied  by  one  entire  people,  and  that 
in  the  aggregate  includes  resources  of  varied  kinds.  This  in- 
tegral geographic  unity  inevitably  has  a  population  that  not  only 
is  largely  congregate,  rather  than  genetic,  in  origin,  but  that  also 
is  in  a  high  degree  composite. 

All  of  these  variegations  of  composition  observable  in  human 
populations  are  products  of  pluralistic  reaction  to  stimulation. 
How  do  they,  in  their  turn,  limit  and  determine  the  possibilities  of 
further  reaction? 

In  the  first  place,  they  set  the  character  of  reaction  as  vigorous 
and  adaptive,  or  not. 

The  adolescent,  and  the  mature  who  are  yet  in  early  middle 
life,  normally  react  quickly,  and  are  capable  of  reacting  strongly 
and  persistently;  the  old  notoriously  are  not  only  slow  but  also 
easily  and  frequently  discouraged.  The  young  respond  to  novelty 
and  delight  in  it :  to  the  old,  notoriously,  it  is  one  more  weariness 
to  the  flesh.  Usually  it  is  the  new  to  which  adaptation  must  be 
made,  and  the  population  in  which  the  young  are  relatively  few 
is  therefore  relatively  non-adaptive.  Because  of  these  and  other 
influences,  among  which  heredity  is  chief,  regional  populations  are 
unequally  alert  and  unequally  adaptive,  and  when  emigrants  from 
them  are  merged  in  a  heterogeneous  population  in  process  of  ag- 
gregation, the  proportions  in  which  they  are  combined  determine 
the  quality  of  its  reactions ;  temporarily,  as  far  as  the  effects  of 
age  distribution  go,  permanently,  as  far  as  the  influences  of 
heredity  extend. 

In  the  second  place  the  ethnic  composition  of  a  population  pre- 
vents or  it  permits  a  relative  complexity  of  total  reaction. 


152    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

A  population  homogeneous  in  blood  is  made  up  of  individuals 
who,  in  a  general  way,  have  undergone  similar  experiences  and 
have  survived  the  same  selective  winnowings.  Their  reaction 
mechanisms  are  alike.  This  means,  not  only  that  they  react  in 
like  manner  to  a  common  situation,  but  also  that  their  reactions 
are  not  complicated  by  necessities  of  adjustment  to  the  different 
reactions  of  neighbors  and  competitors.  The  total  reaction  is 
simple,  while,  by  contrast,  the  total  reaction  of  a  population  made 
up  of  differing  nationalities  or  races  is  inevitably  complex.  The 
reaction  of  each  ethnic  element  is  affected  by  this  more  or  less 
dissimilar  reaction  of  each  other  element,  not  necessarily  through 
media  of  example  and  imitation,  which  may  or  may  not  play  a 
part,  but  always  by  necessities  of  adjustment.  American  life 
abounds  in  examples,  one  of  which  will  suffice.  Reaction  to  an 
epidemic,  by  a  local  population  made  up  preponderantly  of  the 
native  born  of  native  parents,  is  simple  and  straightforward.  It 
does  or  it  does  not  proclaim  and  observe  scientific  precautions, 
according  as  it  is  or  is  not  enlightened.  The  reaction  of  a  neigh- 
boring population,  composed  of  native  "old  settlers,"  immigrant 
English,  immigrant  Irish,  and  immigrant  Slavs  or  Italians  is 
complex  and  devious,  not  merely  because  the  reactions  are  differ- 
ent, but  because  efforts  are  made  to  work  out  adjustments. 

In  the  third  place,  the  degree  to  which  a  population  is  com- 
posite determines  the  range  of  its  total  reaction. 

No  individual  can  react  to  all  stimuli;  but  to  stimuli  to  which 
one  is  unresponsive,  another,  different,  individual  may  be  sensi- 
tive. In  like  manner,  indeed  by  consequence,  one  homogeneous 
group,  or  population,  may  be  incapable  of  reaction  to  situations 
that  provoke  other  groups  to  immediate  and  prolonged  effort, 
although  each  of  them  has  its  own  incapabilities.  Combined  in 
a  heterogeneous  population  these  groups  contribute  their  various 
potentialities  to  a  large  total.  The  more  there  are  of  them,  the 
more  composite  the  population  is  in  which  they  are  merged,  the 
wider  is  its  range  of  possible  reaction  to  stimulation. 

Finally,  in  a  homogeneous  population  a  majority  of  all  indi- 
viduals may  respond  with  like  behavior  in  nearly  every  one  of 
the  relatively  few  situations  to  which  they  can  respond  at  all,  and 
the  stimuli  are  not  necessarily  powerful.  The  component  groups 


153 

of  a  heterogeneous  population  can  react  with  like  behavior  in 
only  a  few  of  the  many  situations  to  which  they  can  respond 
variously  and  the  stimulation  must  be  strong.  The  kith  and  kin 
of  the  New  England  town  in  which  I  was  born  fished  alike,  whit- 
lied  alike,  chewed  tobacco  alike,  pitched  hay  alike,  talked  politics 
alike  at  the  store,  and  sang  psalm  tunes  alike  at  church.  The 
human  millions,  of  all  nations  and  races,  that  compose  the  stupen- 
dous city  in  which  I  write  now  behave  in  every  manner  known 
to  man,  and  in  the  same  manner  only  on  election  night  or  when 
the  prize  fight  is  bulletined,  or  when  the  mercury  goes  above  90 
degrees. 

The  consequences  of  these  determinations  of  reaction  by  en- 
vironment and  circumstance  and  by  the  composition  of  the  react- 
ing population,  must  now  be  followed  out. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   MIND  OF   THE   MANY 

THE  phrase  is  a  figure  of  speech.  If  we  must  be  literal  there  is 
no  "Mind  of  the  Many."  Literally  there  is  no  "group  mind"  or 
"social  mind."  However,  when  Henry  Osborn  Taylor  writes  a 
book  on  The  Medi&val  Mind  no  one  is  made  to  believe  that  a 
period  of  time  has  a  mind  in  the  same  sense  in  which  Mr.  Taylor 
has  a  mind.  The  mediaeval  mind  was  a  prevailing  attitude  and 
a  customary  performance  of  European  minds  a  thousand  years 
ago.  The  mind  of  the  many  at  any  time  or  anywhere  is  a  pre- 
vailing attitude  and  usual  performance  of  enough  minds  then  and 
there  alive  to  be  called  "many."  And  inasmuch  as  performance 
or  functioning  is  correlated  with  the  make  up  (with  the  composi- 
tion and  the  constitution)  of  the  thing  that  functions,  it  is  ac- 
curate to  say  that  the  mind  of  the  many  is  a  kind  of  minds,  react- 
ing at  a  given  time  to  a  common  situation  or  circumstance,  and 
perhaps  inter-acting  one  with  another. 

A  situation  or  circumstance,  as  has  more  than  once  been  re- 
marked on  foregoing  pages,  is  a  lot  or  combination  of  stimuli  to 
psychological  goings  on.  Reacting  to  it  are  "irritable"  organisms. 
The  word  quoted  is  technical  in  physiology:  "irritability"  is  a 
quality  of  living  matter.  If  only  one  organism  reacts,  I  call  the 
phenomenon  "singularistic."  If  two  or  more  organisms  react  to 
the  same  stimulation  at  approximately  the  same  time,  I  call  the 
phenomenon  "pluralistic."  Leaving  plant  organisms  out  of  con- 
sideration (for  our  present  purposes)  the  two  major  kinds  of  re- 
acting organisms  are  animals  and  human  beings.  Within  each 
major  kind  are  minor  kinds  (species  or  varieties)  ;  and  within 
each  minor  kind  there  are  gradations :  that  is,  the  organisms  are 
more  or  less  highly  organized,  their  reactions  are  more  or  less 
complex. 

The  higher  animals  and  man  exhibit  also  "sensitivity." 1    Man 

1  "Irritability"  and  "sensitivity"  are  often  used  interchangeably  in  psy- 
chology, but  they  should  not  be. 

154 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  155 

feels  pain,  and  the  higher  animals  appear  to  feel  it.  Man  con- 
sciously has  sensations  and  memories,  and  the  higher  animals 
seem  to  have  them.  Man  consciously  has  ideas,  and  the  higher 
animals  perhaps  have  a  few  simple  ones. 

All  reactions  of  irritable  matter  to  stimulation  are  physiological 
behavior.  All  reactions  of  organisms  as  units  (or  individuals) 
are  psychological  behavior.  Sensitive  (and  conscious)  organisms 
may  be  described  as  mentalized  organisms.  For  brevity  we  call 
them  minds.  The  behavior  of  reasoning  minds  we  are  in  the  habit 
of  calling  conduct. 

Every  human  being  learns  a  good  deal  about  himself  as  a  mind 
by  consciously  looking  at  and  into  his  own  mental  processes,  that 
is  to  say,  by  introspection ;  but  he  cannot  by  this  method  become 
acquainted  with  the  mind  of  his  neighbor.  All  that  we  know 
about  the  minds  of  fellowmen  we  learn  from  their  conduct. 
This  is  why  there  can  be  no  other  psychology  of  society  than  the 
behavioristic.  A  subjective  psychology  of  the  individual  is  pos- 
sible, but  it  is  scientific  and  significant  only  as  its  facts  are  corre- 
lated with  behavior,  both  singularistic  and  pluralistic.  This 
means  that  we  cannot  explain  society  in  terms  of  an  individual- 
istic psychology,  but  must,  on  the  contrary,  explain  an  individual- 
ized mind  (a  person)  as  a  product  of  society. 

Viewed  as  reaction  to  stimulus  all  behavior,  both  animal  and 
human,  unconscious  and  conscious,  is  mechanistic.  Reflexes  are 
reactions  of  relatively  simple  nervous  mechanisms.  Instincts  are 
reaction  tendencies,  normally  completed  in  reactions,  of  relatively 
complex  mechanisms.1  Reflex  and  instinctive  reactions  are  now 
and  then  set  going,  however,  by  new  stimuli  (new  to  individual 
experience)  that  have  become  associated  with  old  ones ;  they  are 
"reconditioned" ; 2  and  reconditioning  is  the  beginning  of  the 
processes  of  learning.  Reflexes  and  instincts  are  ready  for 
business  at  birth ;  they  are  hereditary.  Habits,  on  the  contrary, 
are  sequences  and  other  combinations  of  responses  that  have  in 
the  first  instance  been  learned  by  the  fumbling  called  "trial  and 

1  Woodworth,  Psychology,  p.  109. 

"I  have  used  this  word  (Intellectual  Consequences  of  the  War,  Trans- 
actions of  the  Royal  Canadian  Institute,  Vol.  XII,  Part  I,  May  1919,  p. 
108)  and  I  use  it  here  because,  strictly  speaking,  the  "conditioned  reflex," 
(Pawlow)  is  reconditioned,  and  reconditioning  is  continually  happening 
in  all  mental  processes,  including  memory,  imagination,  and  reflection. 


156    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

error."  They  can  be  taught  to  successive  generations  but  are  not 
hereditary.  Reasoning  is  a  fumbling  with  ideas,  an  experimenting 
in  thought  preliminary  to  experimenting  in  doing.  It  is  an 
enormous  economizing  of  energy  and  averts  countless  disasters. 
Rational  conduct  is  the  complex  reaction  of  nerve  and  brain 
mechanisms  almost  inconceivably  complicated. 

These  elementary  propositions  are  set  down  here  only  to  sug- 
gest the  depth  of  the  background  from  which  the  mind  of  the 
many  emerges.  Consistently  with  them  I  shall  assume  that  the 
category,  ''pluralistic  behavior,"  is  wider  than  the  category,  "the 
mind  of  the  many,"  and  that  the  wider  category  includes  the  nar- 
rower; and  I  shall  use  the  word  "mind"  only  in  reference  to 
psychological  goings  on  in  which  (at  least  occasionally)  conscious- 
ness is  unmistakably  manifested. 

Antecedent,  then,  to  the  mind  of  the  many  are,  first,  that 
pluralistic  behavior  of  unicellular  bodies  which  was  first  ade- 
quately observed  under  experimental  conditions  and  properly  de- 
scribed by  Jennings,1  and  second,  the  gregariousness  of  the  higher 
animals,  in  which  presumably  the  mind  of  the  many  has  its  be- 
ginnings. 

The  behavior  of  the  lowest  organisms  is  subinstinctive :  no 
nervous  mechanism  is  involved.  Herd  behavior  is  instinctive  in 
part;  in  part  it  is  a  phenomenon  of  habit.  Here  we  encounter  a 
number  of  problems  over  which  psychologists  have  fallen  into 
disagreement,  and  which  are  fundamental  for  social  theory. 

To  say  that  herd  behavior  is  instinctive  is  not  equivalent  to 
saying  that  gregariousness  is  an  instinct,  and  the  second  proposi- 
tion does  not  follow  from  the  first.  If  an  instinct  is  the  response 
of  a  particular  and  definite  nervous  mechanism,  as  the  seizing  of 
food  is,  as  caterwauling  is,  as  fighting  is  and  as  flight  is,  there  is 
no  gregarious  instinct.  Yet  it  is  equally  certain  that  pursuit  of 
prey  by  a  pack  of  wolves  and  a  stampede  of  cattle  are  instinctive 
behavior. 

The  bare  factual  truth  so  far  seems  to  be  that  a  great  part  of 
gregariousness  is  nothing  less  and  nothing  more  than  pluralistic 
instinctive  reaction  to  common  stimulation,  and  that  no  scientific 
necessity  drives  us  to  assume  a  gregarious  instinct  distinct  from 

1  The  Behavior  of  the  Lower  Organisms. 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  157 

and  cooperating  with  the  primitive  instincts  of  food  seizure  and 
flight. 

This  is  not  the  whole  case,  however.  The  individual  members 
of  a  herd  keep  together  or  frequently  get  together.  Often  they 
show  distress  or  terror  if  separated.  And  their  cohesion  is  be- 
havioristic:  no  material  connective  tissue  holds  them  together. 

Is  such  behavior  an  instinct  ?  By  strict  definition,  no :  there  is 
no  gregarious  instinct-mechanism.  Is  it  instinctive?  Perhaps,  or 
perhaps  it  is  subinstinctive.  Possibly  it  is  a  multitude  of  re- 
sponses even  simpler  than  instinctive  ones.  I  am  convinced  that 
it  is.  Like  the  behavior  of  the  lower  organisms  it  is  essentially 
(there  are  adventitious  complications)  nothing  more  than  reac- 
tion by  the  motor  mechanisms  of  the  body  along  lines  of  least  re- 
sistance. 

Every  animal  on  countless  occasions  reacts  to  self-stimulation. 
He  is  excited  by  his  own  play,  his  own  yelping,  leaping  and  run- 
ning. There  is  no  conscious  attempt  to  beat  his  own  record,  or 
to  maintain  it,  such  as  human  beings  make,  but  the  circle  of 
stimulation  and  response  is  complete  and  closed  within  the  in- 
dividual organism,  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other. 

Herd-fellows  are  highly  similar.  They  look  alike,  smell  alike, 
bleat,  bark  and  bellow  alike,  and  they  otherwise  behave  alike. 
Therefore,  the  stimulation  that  herd-fellow  A  gets  from  herd- 
fellow  B  is  extraordinarily  like  the  stimulation  that  he  gets  from 
himself.  It  is  familiar  not  only  in  the  sense  that  he  is  used  to  it, 
but  also  in  the  deeper  sense  that  it  has  been  familiar  from  the 
beginning.  Therefore  again,  and  further,  it  is  not  repellant;  it 
does  not  ordinarily  cause  recoil  or  set  going  the  instinct  of  flight. 
In  contrast,  stimulation  from  animals  not  of  the  herd,  and  from 
the  outer  world  in  general,  does  alarm,  as  often  as  not.  There  is 
then  recoil,  and  the  adventurer  is  thrown  back  upon  his  herd. 

But  if  these  facts  (of  pluralistic  instinctive  response  to  com- 
mon stimulation,  and  reaction  on  lines  of  least  resistance  to  inter- 
stimulation)  sufficiently  explain  gregariousness,  why,  one  may 
ask,  are  not  all  animals  gregarious?  The  question  is  pertinent 
(we  do  not  want  our  proofs  of  a  theory  to  prove  too  much)  but 
the  answer  to  it  is  rather  obvious.  The  food  of  herbivorous  ani- 
mals does  not  take  fright  and  run  away  when  scores  of  them  at  a 


158    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

time  tramp  and  mill  about  "all  over  the  place."  The  food  of 
carnivorous  animals  starts  at  a  flicker,  or  the  crack  of  a  twig. 
Dogs  and  wolves  are  able,  nevertheless,  to  capture  it  because  they 
are  swift  of  foot  and  can  run  incredible  distances  without  exhaus- 
tion. Dogs  and  wolves,  therefore,  can  hunt  in  packs  and  they  do, 
but  a  considerable  "drove"  of  tigers  beating  the  jungle  would 
starve.  Cubs  of  the  stalking  carnivora  snuggle  together  in  sleep 
and  play  together  when  awake ;  it  is  of  necessity  that  they  separate 
when  mature.  The  "herds"  of  lions  now  and  then  observed  are 
small. 

That  primitive  man  was  a  consorting  beast — a  hunter  in  packs 
— is  as  nearly  certain  as  any  purely  inferential  fact  can  be.  In 
The  Principles  of  Sociology  published  in  1896  I  argued  at 
length  that  the  human  ancestor  was  not  a  solitary  ape,  but  the 
ape's  gregarious  relative.  The  relative  was  not  swift  like  the  dog, 
but  he  had  learned  to  use  clubs  and  missiles,  and  with  them  to 
attack  game  bigger  and  stronger  than  himself,  but  slow.  If  this 
contention  interested  anybody  very  much  I  never  heard  of  it, 
but  subsequently  the  idea  occurred  to  others  who  thought  it  im- 
portant.1 

Assuming  that  the  human  mind  was  developed  in  the  hunting 
pack  of  pre-savagery,  but  remembering  that  adaptations  and  ad- 
justments are  not  hereditary,  we  may  now  observe  the  genesis 
of  the  mind  of  the  human  many  as  it  over  and  over  occurs  in 
successive  generations  of  men,  and  under  most  varied  circum- 
stances. 

In  one  of  the  great  halls  of  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art 
are  grouped  examples  of  the  work  of  Rodin.  Among  them  is 
"The  Hand  of  God."  Before  it  the  stream  of  visitors  divides. 
Many  pass  on,  bestowing  only  a  glance.  Others  stop,  their  at- 
tention arrested.  Of  these,  a  number  linger,  fascinated.  For  a 
time  they  are  silent,  they  see  only  the  hand.  Then  their  glances 
wander  to  one  another.  They  quicken  with  sympathetic  under- 
standing. One  speaks,  and  reserve  breaks  down.  In  a  moment 
all  are  talking.  They  know  themselves  to  be,  in  appreciation  of 
this  beautiful  thing,  of  one  kind.  A  psychological  group  has  been 
formed  by  pluralistic  reaction  to  a  common  stimulation,  by  inter- 

1  Compare  Carveth  Read,  The  Origins  of  Man  and  of  his  Superstitions. 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  159 

stimulation  and  responses  thereto,  and  by  awareness  of  a  kinship 
of  minds,  manifested  in  similarity  of  behavior.1 

The  psychological  group  arising  in  mere  like-response,  may 
collectively  begin  to  do  something.  The  doing  may  be  instinctive, 
or  it  may  be  premeditated.  A  purpose  to  do  may  be  talked  over 
and  become  concerted  volition.  Agreeing  decision  may  become 
concerted  action ;  which  may  be  repeated,  and  become  a  f olkway.2 

In  the  codes  of  ancient  law  that  have  come  down  to  us  from 
peoples  emerging  from  a  tribal  into  a  civic  life,  there  are  pictures 
of  pluralistic  response  becoming  concerted  action  that,  by  reason 
of  their  relative  simplicity,  enable  us  to  see  what  happens  more  dis- 
tinctly than  we  do  when  we  observe  the  complex  institutional  ac- 
tivity of  our  own  time.  Of  such  pictures  none  more  clearly  re- 
veals the  psychology  of  it  all  than  do  the  triads  of  Dyvnwr.l  Moel- 
mud,  which  are  included  in  the  Ancient  Laws  of  Wales.  The 
various  occasions  that  draw  men  together  in  mote,  or  meeting  are 
described.  Here  are  examples: 

5.  There  are  three  motes  of  mutual  protection :  an  outpouring  mote ; 
mast  gathering;  and  co-tillage.    Herein  the  hand  of  everyone  is  required 
to  assist  according  to  his  ability. 

6.  There  are  three  horn  motes :  the  assembling  of  the  country  by  elders 
and  chiefs  of  kindreds ;  the  horn  of  harvest ;  and  the  horn  of  battle  and 
war,  against  the  molestation  of  a  border  country  and  strangers. 

14.  There  are  three  motes  of  consociation :  a  convention  of  a  country 
and  elders,  arranging  the  laws  and  judgments   of   a  common  country; 
bards  as  teachers  of  sciences,  where  they  assemble  in  session ;   and  the 
congress  of  a  kindred,  at  a  meeting  for  worship  on  the  principal  high 
festivals. 

15.  There  are  three  motes  of  imminent  attack:  the  inroad  of  a  border 
country  enemy;  the  cry,  or  the  horn,  of  murder  and  waylaying;  and  a 
hamlet  on  fire :  for  assistance  is  required  from  everybody. 

16.  There  are  three  horns  of  joint  mote:  the  horn  of  harvest;  the  horn 
of  pleadings;  and  the  horn  of  worship. 

17.  There  are  three  motes  of   commotion:   the  horn   of   the   country; 
ships  from  a  strange  country  effecting  a  landing;  and  the  non-return  of 
the  messenger  of  a  country  and  elders  from  a  foreign  country. 

aFor  this  luminous  example  I  am  indebted  to  my  friend  and  colleague, 
Mr.  Frank  A.  Ross. 

'A  f  olkway  of  superior  grade,  however.  Simpler  folkways  not  involv- 
ing concurring  decision  after  premeditation  are  mere  like  ways  of  behav- 
ing which  have  become  customary. 


160    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

18.  There  are  three  motes  of  request:  for  tillage;  festal  games;  and 
burning  of  woods;  for,  upon  a  request,  they  are  not  to  be  impeded. 

21.  There  are  three  motes  of  pursuit :  after  a  wolf ;  after  thieves ;  and 
after  a  mad  dog;  and  all  who  shall  hear  the  cry  are  to  assemble  together. 

22.  There    are    three    outpouring    motes :    the    approach    of    strangers 
without  permission;  the  depredation  of  a  border  country;  and  a  pack  of 
wolves. 

26.  There  are  three  motes  of  banishment:  for  murder  and  waylaying; 
treason  against  the  state,  or  treachery  to  the  country  and  kindred;  and 
irretrievable  spoliation;  for  it  is  required  of  everybody,  of  every  sex  and 
age  within  hearing  of  the  horn,  in  the  direction  taken,  to  accompany 
the  progress  of  that  exile;  and  keep  up  the  barking  of  dogs,  to  the  period 
of  putting  to  sea,  and  until  the  one  banished  shall  have  gone  three  score 
hours  out  of  sight. 

Without  attempting  now  a  systematic  or  even  a  full  description 
of  the  mind  of  the  many,  I  may  hazard  here  a  partially  analytical 
account  of  certain  important  details. 

The  irritability  of  all  organisms  from  the  lowest  up  to  and 
including  man;  the  sensitivity  of  the  higher  animals  (perhaps  of 
all  animals)  and  of  man;  the  power  to  experience  conscious  sensa- 
tions which  presumably  exists  in  all  creatures  that  have  organs 
of  sense;  the  capacity  for  emotional  feeling,  the  powers  of  con- 
scious memory  and  of  perception  which  men  and  the  highest  ani- 
mals have;  and  the  ability  to  reason  which  man  enjoys — these  are 
factors  which,  in  combination  constitute  the  natural  ego :  the 
hereditary,  or  original,  nature  of  man. 

By  reacting  to  hard  knocks ;  by  fumbling  and  learning,  by  the 
acquisition  of  habits,  the  natural  ego  becomes  in  his  individual 
lifetime  and  for  its  duration  an  adapted  ego,  better  suited  to  his 
environment  than  he  was  when  he  was  born  because  after  adapta- 
tion he  is  in  part  a  product  of  environment. 

And  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  reconditioning,  of  modification, 
of  remaking.  Both  biology  and  psychology  have  answered  a 
whimsical  question  propounded  by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes : 

"Should  I  be  I,  or  should  I  be 
One-tenth  another  and  nine-tenths  me?" 

if  my  great-grandmother  had  married  another  suitor?    Biologi- 
cally it  depends  on  who  was  which,  or  might  have  been  which, 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  161 

among  my  ancestral  dominants  and  recessives.  Psychologically, 
as  Ribot,  James  and  Baldwin  a  good  while  ago  demonstrated, 
every  human  individual  is  largely  a  product  of  mental  intercourse 
with  other  living  individuals,  and  of  memories  (more  or  less 
reflected  upon)  of  the  deeds  and  the  thoughts  of  the  dead.  The 
process  substantially,  as  I  see  it,  is  this : 

If  the  adapted  ego  and  an  alter,  who  also  is  an  adapted  ego,  or 
if  many  individuals  each  of  whom  is  an  adapted  ego,  are  so  far 
alike  in  their  reactions  to  fundamental  stimulations  that  they 
dwell  in  proximity,  or  frequent  the  same  places,  they  repeatedly 
knock  up  against  one  another.  They  stimulate  one  another  and 
respond  to  one  another.  In  human  populations  these  processes 
are  unimaginably  more  complicated  than  they  are  in  subhuman 
herds.  Interstimulation  among  men  takes  forms  not  onlj  of  acci- 
dental suggestion  and  example,  but  also  of  consciously  intended 
suggestion  and  example;  not  only  of  unconsciously  made  and 
unanalyzed  impression,  but  also  of  premeditated  appeal  and  in- 
tended intimidation.  Response  takes  forms  of  conscious  imitation, 
of  dramatization,  of  conversation,  of  discussion  and  of  concerted 
action.  Dramatization  and  conversation  are  particularly  impor- 
tant. In  the  presence  of  a  fellow  being  a  conscious  individual  does 
not  do  things  artlessly.1  He  enacts  them.  Conversation,  which 
too  often  we  think  of  as  something  other  than  behavior,  is  be- 
havior in  fact.  It  is  objective,  and  states  of  consciousness  peculiar 
to  A  or  peculiar  to  B  (which  as  feeling  cannot  be  shared  by  ego 
and  alter)  when  talked  about  by  A  and  B  become  objects  of 
thought  to  each,  and  can  thenceforth  be  correlated  by  each  with 
observed  behavior.  It  is  doubtful  whether  in  the  whole  range  of 
facts  germane  to  both  psychology  and  sociology  there  is  any 
other  thing  more  significant  than  the  conversationalizing  of  con- 
sciousness. Through  it  and  by  means  of  it  we  develop  our 
"ejective"  interpretations  of  one  another,  which,  without  con- 
versation, could  not  get  far,  or  be  other  than  vague.2 

*He  may  unconsciously  or  self-consciously  do  them  so  artfully  as  to 
seem  to  do  them  artlessly. 

"The  term  "eject"  was  first  used  by  William  Kingdon  Clifford  in  a 
remarkable  article,  "On  the  Nature  of  Things  in  Themselves,"  which 
appeared  in  Mind,  in  January,  1878.  Clifford's  own  definition  of  the  word 
as  there  given  was  as  follows :  "When  I  come  to  the  conclusion  that  you 


162     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

The  play  of  minds  upon  one  another  is  a  give  and  take  which 
expands  and  enriches  all :  a  "dialectic  of  personal  growth,"  Mark 
Baldwin  called  it.  Also,  little  by  little,  stage  by  stage,  and  in  the 
long  run  it  is  an  adjustment  to  one  another  made  by  mentalized 
organisms  reacting  to  common  stimulations,  having  like  wants, 
and  in  like  ways  trying  to  satisfy  them.  Adjustment  works  out 
as  toleration,  which,  among  herding  animals,  is  little  if  anything 
more  than  an  equilibrium  of  fighting  ability,  but  among  men  is 
premeditated  and  consciously  practiced.  Also,  among  men,  it 
works  out  further  in  a  formulation  and  observance  of  rights. 
Through  give  and  take  with  fellowmen  and  through  adjustment 
with  them,  the  adapted  ego  becomes  a  complicit  ego.1 

The  account  of  the  making  of  ego  by  alter  which  Baldwin  gives 
and  from  which  I  dissent,  is  both  simpler  than  mine  and  different 
from  it.  "The  dialectic  of  personal  growth,"  Baldwin  says,  may 
be  read  thus :  "My  thought  of  self  is  in  the  main,  as  to  its  charac- 
ter as  a  personal  self,  filled  up  with  my  thought  of  others,  dis- 
tributed variously  as  individuals;  and  my  thought  of  others,  as 
persons,  is  mainly  filled  up  with  myself.  In  other  words,  but  for 
certain  minor  distinctions  in  the  filling,  and  for  certain  compelling 
distinctions  between  that  which  is  immediate  and  that  which  is 
objective,  the  ego  and  the  alter  are  to  our  thought  one  and  the 
same  thing." 

To  this  I  object  first  that  it  is  inaccurate  to  say  that  "my  thought 

are  conscious,  and  that  there  are  objects  in  your  consciousness  similar 
to  those  in  mine,  I  am  not  inferring  any  actual  or  possible  feelings  of 
my  own,  but  your  feelings,  which  are  not,  and  cannot  by  any  possibility 
become,  objects  in  my  consciousness.  .  .  .  But  the  inferred  existence  of 
your  feelings,  of  objective  groupings  among  them  similar  to  those  among 
my  feelings,  and  of  a  subjective  order  in  many  respects  analogous  to 
my  own, — these  inferred  existences  are  in  the  very  act  of  inference  thrown 
out  of  my  consciousness,  recognized  as  outside  of  it,  as  not  being  a  part 
of  me.  I  propose,  accordingly,  to  call  these  inferred  existences  ejects, 
things  thrown  out  of  my  consciousness,  to  distinguish  them  from  objects, 
things  presented  in  my  consciousness,  phenomena." 

1 1  am  now  closely  following  the  argument  of  an  article  on  "The 
Psychology  of  Society,"  Science,  January  6,  1899,  in  which  I  criticized 
Baldwin's  "Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations,"  contending  that  he  had 
not  made  enough  of  that  natural  ego  which  is  not  a  product  of  the 
dialectic,  that  he  had  failed  to  perceive  the  dominating  importance  of 
mental  and  moral  relations  with  similars,  and  that  in  identifying  the 
"matter"  or  stuff  of  social  organization  with  "all  kinds  of  knowledges 
and  informations"  (with  "thoughts"  in  general)  he  was  off  the  track 
altogether. 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  163 

of  self  is,  in  the  main,  filled  up  with  my  thought  of  others,"  even 
if  we  admit  "minor  distinctions  in  the  filling"  and  "certain  com- 
pelling distinctions  between  that  which  is  immediate  and  that 
which  is  objective."  What  are  these  compelling  distinctions  of 
the  immediate?  Obviously,  they  are  those  presentations  in  con- 
sciousness which  arise  from  organic  conditions  rather  than  from 
mental  intercourse  with  others.  Hunger  is  a  state  of  conscious- 
ness which  can  subvert  the  entire  product  of  the  "dialectic  of 
personal  growth" ;  and  it  will  not  do  to  ignore  the  fact  that  when 
men  who  have  been  amended  and  amplified  by  that  dialectic  are 
confronted  by  starvation,  they  are  liable  to  have  thoughts  of  self 
which  can  hardly  be  construed  as  filled  up  mainly  with  thoughts 
of  others,  unless  we  are  prepared  to  accept  a  cannibal's  definition 
of  "others."  Therefore  we  must  continue  to  think  of  the  indi- 
vidual as  being  essentially  a  natural  ego,  and  at  all  times  more 
natural  and  adapted  than  complicit. 

A  further  and  more  important  objection  that  I  make  to  Bald- 
win's analysis  is  that  the  give  and  take  in  which  the  ego  engages 
is  not  carried  on  indiscriminately  or  to  equal  extent  with  any 
alter.  From  the  beginning  of  conscious  life  a  tendency  is  mani- 
fest to  discriminate  between  one  alter  and  another,  and  develop- 
ment of  the  complicit  ego  is  conditioned  by  a  state  of  awareness 
which  may  be  described  as  a  consciousness  of  similars  or  of  kind. 
The  rise  of  this  consciousness  marks  a  distinct  stage  in  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  mind  of  the  many.  Also  it  converts  mere  gregarious- 
ness  into  society;  and  it  transforms  further  the  already  twice 
amended  and  doubly  amplified  natural  ego. 

The  consciousness  of  kind,  it  is  necessary  to  observe,  is  not  an 
undecomposable  or  ultimate  mental  state.  Sensations  are  the 
foundation  of  it.  Ideas  and  emotions  are  mingled,  perhaps 
blended,  in  it.  Long  before  any  discriminations  of  kind  have 
become  possible,  a  preparation  for  them  and  a  tendency  toward 
them  is  made  in  conscious  experience.  Of  the  sensations  which 
first  arise  in  consciousness,  some  are  received  from  the  bodily 
organism  which  the  self  inhabits ;  some  are  received  from  similar 
bodily  organisms,  and  some  are  received  from  wholly  unlike 
objects  in  the  external  world.  Now  we  know  that  many  sensations 
received  from  self  are  so  nearly  like  sensations  received  from  like 


164    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

selves  that,  merely  as  sensations,  they  can  be  distinguished  only 
with  difficulty.  If,  for  example,  I  strike  with  my  voice  a  certain 
note  of  the  musical  scale,  and  another  person  a  moment  after 
strikes  the  same  note  with  his  voice,  my  auditory  sensations  in  the 
two  cases  are  nearly  alike.  If  I  cry  out  in  pain,  and  then  hear 
another  man  like  myself  cry  out  in  pain,  my  auditory  sensations 
are  nearly  alike;  but  if  I  hear  a  dog  bark,  the  sensation  is 
different  from  that  which  I  have  received  from  my  own  voice.  If 
I  walk  with  my  friend  down  the  street,  and  happen  to  notice  the 
motion  of  my  feet  as  I  take  successive  steps,  and  then  to  notice 
the  motion  of  my  friend's  feet,  the  visual  sensations,  in  these  two 
cases,  are  closely  alike ;  but  if  I  happen  to  notice  the  trotting  of 
a  horse  that  is  being  driven  by  me,  the  visual  sensation  is  dif- 
ferent from  that  which  I  have  received  in  observing  my  own  steps. 
If  I  stroke  the  back  of  my  hand,  and  then  stroke  the  back  of 
my  friend's  hand,  I  receive  tactual  sensations  that  are  closely 
alike ;  but  if  I  then  stroke  the  fur  of  a  cat  or  the  mane  of  a  horse, 
or  touch  the  paw  of  a  cat  or  the  hoof  of  a  horse,  I  receive 
sensations  very  different  from  those  received  from  the  back  of 
my  hand.  It  therefore  appears  that  before  there  is  power  to  make 
discriminations  of  any  kind,  even  to  think  of  differences  of  sen- 
sation, sensations  themselves  fall  into  different  groupings.  At  the 
very  beginning  of  conscious  life,  certain  elements  which  are  to 
enter  into  a  consciousness  of  kind  begin  to  appear  in  experience. 
They  consist  of  like  sensations  received  from  self  and  from  others 
who  resemble  self. 

On  the  basis  of  these  experiences  there  are  developed  others 
that  call  for  investigation  from  the  same  point  of  view.  When 
suggestion  begins  to  play  an  important  part  in  mental  life,  are 
suggestions  from  persons  very  unlike  self  equally  efficacious  with 
suggestions  from  persons  nearly  like  self?  There  is  here  a  great 
field  for  investigation.  A  thousand  familiar  observations  strongly 
indicate  the  superiority  of  suggestions  that  come  from  those  whose 
neural  organization  resembles  that  of  the  person  affected.  Why, 
for  example,  does  Maudsley  venture  to  say,  without  offering  the 
slightest  proof,  that,  while  men  are  as  liable  as  silly  sheep  to  fall 
into  panic  when  they  see  panic  among  their  fellows,  they  are  not 
similarly  liable  when  they  perceive  panic  among  sheep?  Obvi- 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  165 

ously,  because  facts  of  this  general  character  are  so  familiar  that 
no  one  would  think  of  questioning  them.  Phenomena  like  these, 
of  course,  have  thefr  origin  in  a  like  responsiveness  of  like  or- 
ganisms to  the  same  stimulus. 

When  power  to  make  intellectual  discriminations  is  attained,  a 
perception  of  resemblances  and  differences  begins  to  create  ob- 
jective science,  to  react  upon  pluralistic  behavior,  and  to  bias  the 
intercourse  of  individuals.  Objects  of  the  external  world  are 
sorted  and  classified.  "Men,"  "animals,"  and  "plants,"  are  early 
categories.  In  the  folk  lore  of  many  lands  the  making  and  filling 
of  them  is  the  first  brain  work  spoken  of.  "Whatsoever  Adam 
called  every  living  creature,  that  was  the  name  thereof.  And 
Adam  gave  names  to  all  cattle,  and  to  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  to 
every  beast  of  the  field."  The  first  sortings  are  by  obtruf ive  fea- 
tures of  size,  shape  and  color.  Then  actions  arrest  attention,  and 
men  already  sorted  by  size  and  color,1  are  sorted  by  speech  and 
behavior.  Last  of  all  they  are  classified  with  reference  to  feelings, 
beliefs,  tastes,  sentiments,  judgments  and  philosophies  imputed  to 
them.  In  all  this  classifying  every  individual  assigns  himself  (in 
most  instances  with  obvious  satisfaction)  to  certain  kinds,  and, 
thanking  God  that  he  is  not  as  other  men  are,  excluding  himself 
from  their  kinds. 

These  intellectual  operations  of  discrimination  and  assignment 
react  upon  the  sensory  sympathy  (I  have  called  it  organic  sym- 
pathy) that  has  been  described,  and  condition  it  by  reflection.  It 
becomes  the  complex  sympathy  (partly  feeling  and  partly  idea) 
that  Adam  Smith  discoursed  of  in  The  Theory  of  Moral  Senti- 
ments. Even  in  the  emotional  madness  of  mob  action  the  reac- 
tion of  the  perception  of  kind  may  be  seen.  When,  for  example, 
masses  of  men  simultaneously  respond  to  a  party  cry  or  symbol, 
the  action  for  the  moment  is  merely  a  like  responsiveness  to  the 
same  stimulus.  An  instant  later,  when  each  man  perceives  that,  in 
this  respect,  his  fellow  beings  are  resembling  himself  in  feeling 
and  in  action,  his  own  emotion  is  enormously  intensified.  It  is  this 
which  gives  to  all  symbols  and  shibboleths  their  tremendous  practi- 
cal importance. 

1  Size  and  color  are  the  peculiarities  of  white  men  first  remarked  upon 
by  brown  men  on  first  acquaintance. 


1 66     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

From  the  moment  when  the  individual  becomes  intellectually 
aware  of  his  kind  (or  kinds)  he  begins  to  pick  and  choose  his 
familiars.  He  is  acutely  conscious  of  likes  and  dislikes,  and  de- 
velops countless  prejudices.  On  the  whole  he  likes  best  those 
fellowmen  whose  ways  are  his  ways,  whose  foibles  are  his 
foibles,  whose  vices  are  his  vices,  whose  virtues  are  his  virtues, 
whose  tastes  are  his  tastes,  and  whose  beliefs  are  his  beliefs.  His 
consorting  becomes  a  preferential  association,  and  this  is  the  be- 
ginning of  society  in  distinction  from  the  herd.  Ever  since  the 
derivatives  of  sociiis  appeared  in  speech  they  have  carried  the 
denotation  or  the  connotation,  preferential  association.  Gregari- 
ousness  began  when  plural  offspring  kept  together  instead  of 
separating.  Society  began  when  the  consciousness  of  kind  first 
manifested  itself  in  preferential  association. 

In  association  and  through  its  exigencies,  the  ego  takes  on  the 
subtleties,  of  feeling,  attitude,  and  demeanor,  that  make  him  a 
comrade.  Already  a  complicit  ego,  made  so  by  gregariousness,  he 
now  becomes  a  socialized  ego,  made  so  by  preferential  association, 
a  product  of  the  consciousness  of  kind. 

There  are  two  further  stages  in  the  development  of  the  ego 
which  I  shall  only  mention,  without  describing  them  or  further 
accounting  for  them,  in  this  place.  Society  becomes  organized. 
Through  its  mores  spontaneous  society  exerts  a  social  pressure 
upon  its  component  human  units.  Through  its  governments  and 
laws  organized  society  exerts  a  legal  pressure.  Reacting  to  these 
pressures  the  individual  becomes  a  societized,  or,  to  use  a  less 
accurate  but  more  familiar  word,  a  civilized  ego.  Organized 
society  ameliorates  the  struggle  for  existence,  thereby  making 
possible  a  survival  of  human  variates  from  type  (if  they  are  soci- 
etized) that  under  harder  conditions  would  perish.  Varying  from 
type,  the  human  units  of  organized  society  also  differ  from  one 
another.  They  are  individual  not  only  in  the  sense  that  each  is 
an  ego  but  also  in  the  sense  that  each  is  in  a  degree  peculiar, 
which  is  what  we  mean  when  we  say  that  each  has  individuality. 
So,  as  the  final  product  of  social  evolution,  we  get  human  per- 
sonality, concrete  in  an  ego  that  has  been  adapted,  made  complicit, 
socialized,  civilized,  and,  in  the  end,  individualised. 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  167 

It  should  be  clear  by  now  why  I  cannot  assent  to  the  proposition 
that  the  "material"  of  society  is  all  kinds  of  thoughts  and  "knowl- 
edges." The  material  of  society  is  a  plural  number  of  concrete 
human  beings  so  constituted  that  they  think  alike  on  matters  of 
fundamental  importance,  behave  alike  in  critical  situations  and, 
intellectually  knowing  that  they  so  do  behave,  consciously  count 
on  one  another  to  keep  on  so  thinking  and  so  behaving.  Or,  more 
briefly  put,  the  material  of  society  is  a  plural  number  of  like- 
minded  persons. 

When,  many  years  ago,  I  singled  out  like-mindedness  as  a 
phenomenon  of  preeminent  importance  for  the  theory  of  human 
society,  I  was  careful  to  acknowledge  my  obligation  for  the  idea  to 
a  source  very  old  and  immensely  respectable. 

Paul  the  Apostle  was  not  only  one  of  the  most  gifted  men  of 
any  age,  but  also  one  of  the  most  practical.  He  had  been  reared 
in  Jewish  formalism  and  had  witnessed  the  beginnings  of  Roman 
imperialism  before  he  participated  in  the  organization  of  Chris- 
tianity. Accepting  the  duties  which  circumstances  and  his  own 
nature  placed  upon  him  as  an  interpreter  and  missionary  of  the 
new  faith  he  gave  heed  to  the  social  cohesion  of  its  converts,  and 
perceived  in  what  it  must  consist.  All  of  the  older  religions 
against  which  Christianity  was  to  make  headway  had  grown  into 
elaborate  social  systems,  with  their  priesthoods,  their  carefully 
graded  ranks  or  classes  of  believers,  their  rituals  and  festivals, 
and  against  these  the  disciples  had  protested.  Knowing,  there- 
fore, that  the  social  unity  of  Christian  believers  must  be  more 
spiritual  and  spontaneously  behavioristic  than  authoritative  and 
legal,  Paul  saw  that  it  must  be  the  unity  of  like-mindedness. 
Therefore  insistently  in  the  Epistles  he  forces  like-mindedness 
upon  the  attention  of  his  readers,  and  warns  them  to  give  heed 
to  it.  "Be  of  the  same  mind  one  toward  another,"  he  says  to  the 
Romans;  and  in  the  same  Epistle  he  prays  for  them,  that  they 
may  be  of  the  same  mind;  that  with  one  accord  and  with  one 
mouth  they  may  glorify  their  God.  The  Corinthians  he  beseeches 
to  "speak  the  same  thing" ;  to  "have  no  divisions"  among  them ; 
that  they  may  be  "perfected  together  in  the  same  mind  and  in  the 
same  judgment."  And  the  Philippians  he  implores  to  "stand  fast 


168     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

in  one  spirit,  with  one  soul" ;  to  "be  of  the  same  mind,  having  the 
same  love,  being  of  one  accord." 

That  it  was  in  truth  Paul  who  first  seized  upon  this  social 
phenomenon  for  practical  purposes,  we  have  proof.  Only  in  two 
places  outside  of  his  writings  can  any  allusion  to  it  be  found  in 
either  the  Old  or  the  New  Testament.  One  is  in  the  first  epistle 
of  Peter,  where  the  expression  "finally,  be  ye  all  like-minded"  is  so 
exactly  the  phraseology  of  Paul  that  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  it 
was  borrowed  from  him.  The  other  is  in  Revelation,  where  ten 
kings  are  spoken  of  as  having  one  mind.  That  the  Apostle  him- 
self derived  the  suggestion  from  a  Greek  or  a  Roman  source  is 
probable.  Plato  in  the  passage  quoted  in  Chapter  VI  observes  how 
different  is  the  behavior  of  "all  kinds  of  people  flowing  together 
to  the  same  point"  from  that  of  a  community  homogeneous  in 
blood  and  speaking  one  language.  Aristotle  in  the  Ethics  quotes 
the  saying  that  "birds  of  a  feather  flock  together,"  and  recalls  a 
contention  of  Empedocles  that  "like  desires  like."  To  Roman 
lawyers  the  "meeting  of  minds"  was  an  essential  factor  of  a  con- 
tract. But,  so  far  as  we  know,  neither  Greek  nor  Roman  before 
Paul  insisted  as  he  did  that  like-mindedness  is  the  effective  co- 
hesion and  unity  of  discrete  individuals  for  practical  ends. 

If  he  and  those  who  anticipated  his  thought  were  right  in  this, 
we  find  in  implications  of  their  teaching  a  provisional  definition  of 
society  and  of  its  "stuff."  The  like-mindedness  that  is  essential  is 
known  and  understood  for  what  it  is  by  those  who  share  it.  They 
foster  it,  knowing  its  value.  Not  only  do  A  and  B  agree  in  their 
thoughts,  feelings,  purposes ;  but  also  both  A  and  B  are  aware  of 
their  agreement.  Moreover,  they  perceive  that  agreement  is  pleas- 
urable ;  that  the  fruits  of  concord  are  peace ;  that  discord  is  not 
happiness  and  is  likely  to  end  in  disunion.  They  strive,  as  en- 
joined, to  be  "perfected  together  in  the  same  mind  and  in  the 
same  judgment."  Obviously,  then,  it  appears,  a  society  is  any  num- 
ber of  individuals  in  a  general  way  like-minded,  or  like-minded 
on  a  particular  matter,  who  know  and  enjoy  their  like-mindedness, 
and  are  therefore  able  to  work  together  for  common  ends. 

The  inhabitants  of  villages,  cities  and  nations  are  like-minded 
in  a  general  way,  but  usually  tolerant  of  many  differences  that 
are  not  divisive  and  favorably  disposed  to  any  that  function  in 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  169 

occupational  specialization,  the  so-called  division  of  labor.  The 
members  of  artificial  societies  intentionally  formed  and  main- 
tained for  particular  purposes,  the  church  for  example,  the  politi- 
cal party,  the  business  corporation,  the  scientific  association,  or 
the  club,  are  like-minded  in  respect  of  the  particular  interests 
which  these  societies  conserve  or  foster,  and  usually  they  are 
intolerant  of  attitudes  inimical  to  the  interests  cherished. 

Toleration  of  the  modes  and  degrees  of  unlike-mindedness  that 
are  as  necessary  for  social  variation  as  fundamental  like-minded- 
ness  is  for  cohesion  and  for  stability,  is  always  "within  limits"  of 
kind,  degree  and  range.  These  do  not  necessarily,  or  perhaps 
usually,  coincide  with  limits  of  desirability,  but  what  the  latter 
are  has  never  been  determined.  Everybody  except  the  fanatic 
and  the  moron  can  see  that  only  if  new  types  of  character,  new 
habits  and  ambitions,  and  new  ways  of  thinking  appear  by  muta- 
tion or  are  brought  in,  can  a  community  undergo  appreciable 
change  for  better  or  for  worse;  that  only  as  individual  men  differ 
from  their  fellows  can  the  church  or  the  party  adapt  itself  to  new 
conditions;  but  beyond  this  all  is  guesswork,  and  experimental 
policies  are  shaped  by  conflicts  of  group  and  class  interest,  as  these 
are  played  upon  by  winds  of  destiny.  Scientific  knowledge  of  this 
matter  is  presumably  attainable ;  but  at  present  we  know  only  that 
the  balance  of  like-mindedness  over  unlike-mindedness  must  be 
large  for  society  to  exist  at  all  and  that  for  orderly  development  a 
continually  appearing  unlikeness  of  behavior,  of  expressed  pur- 
pose, feeling  and  thought,  must  be  reconcilable  with  a  great  mass 
of  established  agreement,  and  in  fact,  be  harmonized  with  it,  and 
utilized. 

By  tolerated  variegations  of  population  and  variations  of  be- 
havior much  social  change  is  accomplished  quietly  and  unob- 
served. Slight  differences  of  nationality  are  assimilated;  minor 
peculiarities  of  manner  are  imitated ;  modifications  of  opinion  are 
effected ;  until,  in  time,  a  really  important  metamorphosis  of  soci- 
ety has  taken  place,  and  no  one  can  tell  exactly  how.  These  from 
the  first  are  things  "of  course"  or  of  habit  more  than  of  emotion 
or  of  conviction,  far  more  than  of  intellectual  concern.  They 
enter  into  tradition,  partaking  of  its  color,  and  mellowing  in  its 
atmosphere. 


1 70    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

But,  now  and  then,  masses  of  men  become  consciously  dissatis- 
fied with  existing  conditions,  and  by  combined  action,  consciously 
begun  and  intentionally  kept  up,  bring  about  momentous  changes 
in  a  relatively  brief  while.  Such  are  revolutionSj_and  occasional 
transformations  inaugurated  by  governmental  policy.  Such,  for 
example,  were  the  Puritan  rebellion  in  England,  the  American 
Revolution  in  1776,  the  establishment  of  the  French  Republic,  the 
ratification  of  the  Federal  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  the 
abolition  of  negro  slavery,  and  the  communistic  regime  in  Russia. 

These  comparatively  swift  overturns  or  metamorphoses  are 
brought  about  in  two  ways :  an  impulsive,  unreasoning  social  ac- 
tion, like  that  of  the  mob,  is  one ;  deliberation  and  discussion  are 
the  other.  Of  impulsive  social  action,  sane  men  in  their  sane 
moments  have  a  well-grounded  dread.  Not  all  the  cruelties  that 
have  deliberately  been  inflicted  by  political  tyrants  and  ecclesiasti- 
cal councils  can  be  compared  with  the  horrors  that  have  been 
perpetrated  by  irresponsible  masses  of  men  who  have  broken 
with  tradition  or  ceased  to  reason  about  their  social  situation,  and 
have  surrendered  themselves  to  the  frenzy  of  emotion. 

Scientific  analysis  of  the  conditions  and  processes  of  mob 
action  can  add  nothing  to  the  repugnance  which  calm-minded  men 
feel  toward  collective  outbreaks  of  the  brute  nature  that  still  sur- 
vives in  man.  Nevertheless,  inventory  and  description  contribute 
two  elements  of  value  to  our  knowledge  of  this  subject.  The  first 
is  the  record  of  history  that  transition  from  violent  talk  to  violent 
action  is  begun  by  irresponsible,  quasi-criminal  elements  of  the 
population.  Riots,  insurrections,  revolutions,  rarely  begin  with 
the  striking  of  a  well-directed  blow  by  a  disciplined  force,  under 
the  command  of  a  far-seeing  leader.  They  start  with  assaults, 
thefts,  and  homicides,  with  volleys  of  stones,  with  random  shoot- 
ings and  stabbings,  with  the  looting  of  shops,  and  the  lynching  of 
opponents.  To  mention  but  one  among  countless  instances,  the 
Crusades,  a  true  epidemic  craze,  did  not  begin  with  the  setting 
forth  of  armed  expeditions  under  Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  Hugh  the 
Great,  Robert  Curthose,  Count  Robert  of  Flanders,  Prince  Boeh- 
mond  of  Tarentum,  and  Count  Raymond  of  Toulouse,  in  the  year 
1097.  They  began  with  the  three  unorganized  crusades  of  the 
preceding  year,  under  Walter  the  Penniless,  whose  twenty  thou- 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  171 

sand  followers,  described  as  the  dregs  of  Christendom,  filled  Bul- 
garia with  robbery  and  murder,  until  they  were  themselves  slaugh- 
tered in  the  storming  of  Belgrade ;  under  Peter  the  Hermit,  whose 
rabble  of  forty  thousand  men,  women,  and  children  was  hardly 
better  in  character;  and  under  the  German  priest,  Gottschalk, 
whose  fifteen  thousand  followers  from  Strassburg,  Worms,  and 
Mayence  inaugurated  their  pilgrimage  by  massacring  Jews  in  the 
valley  of  the  Rhine.  Collective  conduct  of  this  kind,  whether  it 
develops  into  revolutionary  "terrors"  to  culminate  in  the  devasta- 
tion of  an  empire,  or  becomes  a  f  olkway,  like  lynching  in  America, 
admits  of  but  one  interpretation.  It  means  that  the  unchaining 
of  the  wild  beast  in  man,  which  is  often  spoken  of  as  a  result  of 
mob  action,  is  not  its  result  at  all,  but  its  beginning;  and  that  a 
fearful  responsibility  rests  upon  those  men  and  women  who,  while 
believing  in  rational  deliberation,  and  justly  dreading  epidemic 
emotion,  look  tolerantly  upon  the  initial  stages  of  social  excite- 
ment, or  carelessly  permit  themselves  to  contribute  to  it,  in  the 
unwarranted  belief  that  they  can  turn  to  and  check  it  when  it 
begins  to  go  too  far. 

The  impossibility  of  checking,  until  it  has  run  its  course,  any 
mob  action  that  has  once  gathered  headway,  has  fully  been  estab- 
lished as  a  demonstrated  sociological  principle;  and  this  is  the 
second  element  which  a  scientific  description  of  society  adds  to 
our  knowledge  of  the  non-reasoning  or  impulsive  modes  of  social 
transformation.  From  the  moment  that  habit  and  reason  lose 
control  over  masses  of  communicating  men,  they  fall  under  the 
power  of  example  and  suggestion;  and  emotional  fury  sweeps 
through  them  with  increasing  volume  and  accelerating  velocity, 
as  a  conflagration  sweeps  through  accumulations  of  combustible 
material.  Impulsive  social  action,  in  short,  proceeds  not  slowly 
through  the  mass,  as  water  filters  through  sand,  but  with  the  ac- 
celeration of  a  geometrical  progression.  This  law  is  no  more  open 
to  doubt  than  is  the  law  of  gravitation,  and  no  fact  of  social  knowl- 
edge is  more  sobering.  The  only  way  to  prevent  the  devastating 
consequences  of  epidemic  madness  is  to  multiply  in  the  com- 
munity the  number  of  those  men  who  habitually  subordinate  feel- 
ing to  morale  or  to  reason,  and  who,  therefore,  cannot  become  a 
part  of  the  combustible  material  of  the  mob  spirit. 


172     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

If  these  things  are  true,  it  is  certain  that  as  far  as  well-being 
depends  upon  human  intention  and  the  putting  forth  of  human 
will  to  supplement  the  slow  accumulation  of  minute  changes  that 
are  imperceptibly  effected,  we  must  look  chiefly  to  the  agency  of 
deliberation.  What,  then,  are  the  conditions  under  which  reason 
functions  in  social  affairs  and  establishes  morale?  What  are  the 
conditions  under  which  deliberated  behavior  is  encouraged,  and 
the  proportion  of  emotional,  fanatical,  hypnotizable,  impulsive  be- 
havior is  diminished? 

These  questions  may  best  be  answered  by  converting  them  into 
a  negative  form.  Under  what  conditions  are  irrationality,  hyp- 
notic susceptibility,  willingness  to  follow  without  question  or 
resistance  any  suggested  course  of  action,  most  likely  to  prevail? 
Are  we  tolerant  of  influences  or  agencies,  whose  certain  tendency 
is  to  break  down  morale  and  give  rein  to  impulse  ?  The  answer  is 
disturbing  but  not  disputable.  For  generations  society  has  per- 
mitted, not  to  say  encouraged,  in  the  name  of  religion,  the  practice 
of  arts  that  menace  happiness  and  social  order.  A  certain  type  of 
the  professional  revivalist  plays  upon  ignorance  and  upon  fear. 
A  certain  type  of  the  revival  meeting  is,  and  always  has  been,  .a 
school  of  ill-considered  action.  Throughout  history  a  kind  of 
revival  in  which  reason  is  denounced,  anathematized,  and  sub- 
merged under  billows  of  crazing  emotion,  has  been  a  foster- 
mother  of  the  mob. 

No  sane  person  can  witness  the  occurrences  of  a  negro  revival 
in  the  South,  or  read  of  the  similar  occurrences  that  took  place 
during  revival  epidemics  that  swept  westward  from  the  Atlantic 
seaboard  in  1837  and  in  1857,  or  listen  to  the  preaching  of  some 
of  the  more  popular  of  contemporary  revivalists,  without  being 
convinced  of  the  truth  of  these  propositions.  The  methods  of  the 
professional  revivalist  are  those  of  the  professional  hypnotizer, 
even  when  they  are  more  refined,  and  keep  their  machinery  out  of 
sight.  The  professional  revivalist  tells  his  hearers  that  their 
reason  is  the  most  deadly  enemy  of  their  souls ;  that  the  deliberat- 
ing, critical  habit  of  mind  endangers  eternal  salvation ;  that  safety 
lies  in  acting  immediately  upon  the  impulse  which  he  is  striving 
to  awaken  in  their  bosoms.  Such  a  teacher,  addressing  an  audi- 
ence of  thousands  in  New  York  City,  repeated  as  a  model  for 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  MANY  173 

universal  imitation  the  prayer  of  a  man  who  besought  God  to 
crush  his  individual  will,  and  make  him  a  drift-log  on  the  current 
of  divine  purpose.  Men  and  women  who  surrender  themselves 
to  such  teaching  in  the  revival  will  not  act  coolly,  reasonably, 
and  courageously  in  the  affairs  of  secular  life.  Those  who  yield 
to  the  impassioned  appeal  of  the  exhorter,  will  not  be  unmoved  by 
the  harangue  of  the  partisan  orator,  or  resist  the  impulse  to  fellow 
blindly  the  lead  of  the  "boss"  who,  like  his  religious  preceptor, 
exacts  unquestioning  obedience.  As  long  as  the  grosser  forms  of 
revivalism  are  possible,  the  protection  of  society  against  epidemic 
madness,  and  the  overthrow  of  "bossism"  of  the  brutal  sort  will  be 
impossible.  It  is  unreasonable  to  believe  that  we  can  make  men 
irrational,  impulsive,  hypnotic  creatures  for  the  purposes  of  re- 
ligion, and  then  find  them  cool-headed,  critical,  rational  men  for 
the  purposes  of  politics. 

When  reason  controls  the  social  situation,  deliberation  consists 
largely  in  a  review  and  criticism  of  social  values ;  one  of  the  high- 
est enterprises  in  which  the  rational  intelligence  can  engage. 

By  the  term  "social  value"  I  mean  a  regard  or  esteem  for  any 
social  habit,  relation,  or  institution  which  makes  men  cherish  and 
defend  it.  In  the  long  run,  social  values  are  measured,  as  eco- 
nomic values  are,  by  the  sacrifices  that  men  make  for  them.  The 
measure  of  the  value  that  we  attach  to  civil  liberty  is  found  in  the 
sacrifices  that  we  make  to  maintain  it.  The  measure  of  the  value 
that  we  attach  to  any  ancient  usage  or  institution  which,  in  some 
degree,  obstructs  the  later  developments  of  our  social  system  is  the 
sacrifice  of  new  possibilities  that  we  submit  to,  rather  than  witness 
the  destruction  of  things  that  we  long  have  admired  or  revered. 

Social  values,  like  economic  values,  are  determined  in  part  by 
comparisons  that  theoretically  should  be  extended  throughout  the 
entire  range  of  possible  utilities  and  costs.  It  would  be  worth 
while  for  the  individual,  if  he  were  well  enough  informed  and 
sufficiently  in  control  of  his  impulses  and  prejudices,  to  estimate 
accurately  every  utility  and  every  cost  which  enters  into  his  cal- 
culations. It  would  promote  the  general  welfare  if  society  could 
estimate  accurately  the  utility  of  every  social  institution,  of  every 
cherished  usage  or  custom,  and,  with  equal  accuracy,  the  sacri- 
fices, not  only  of  the  time  and  money  of  individuals,  but  also  of 


174    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

possible  developments  oh  new  lines  of  progress,  which  must  be 
made  in  order  to  maintain  the  old ;  or,  taking  the  other  point  of 
view,  if  it  could  estimate  accurately  how  much  of  the  old  must  be 
sacrificed  to  secure  the  new.  Therefore,  the  rational  process  in 
social  development  consists  chiefly  in  that  criticism  of  all  our 
social  values  which  enables  us  wisely  to  choose  among  them. 

Objects  of  social  esteem  are  ends  to  be  attained  or  they  are 
means  to  attainment.  Here,  again,  we  find  analogy  with  economic 
categories,  since  economic  goods  are  either  goods  for  final  con- 
sumption, or  the  means  of  production  which  we  describe  as  capi- 
tal. The  ends  that  we  strive  to  attain  in  society  are  not  essentially 
different  from  those  that  we  strive  to  attain  as  individuals.  The 
objects  of  endeavor,  whether  of  individuals  or  of  communities, 
are  life,  happiness,  and  the  development  of  our  rational  personal- 
ity. Society  itself  is  a  means.  Philosophy  cannot  set  aside  or 
improve  upon  the  Platonic  and  Aristotelian  dictum  that  the  state 
exists  for  the  good  life.  Yet  no  truth  is  more  frequently  lost  sight 
of  in  personal  conduct  or  in  public  policy.  Nothing  is  so  hard 
for  the  partisan  to  see  and  admit  as  that  his  party  is  only  an  in- 
strumentality, and  that  it  cumbers  the  ground  when  it  no  longer 
promotes  the  end  for  which  it  was  instituted.  Nothing  is  more 
difficult  for  men  and  women  in  general  than  to  see  and  admit 
that  customs,  usages,  institutions,  parties,  churches,  creeds,  have 
no  sacredness  in  themselves,  and  that  there  is  no  other  warrant  for 
their  existence  than  may  be  found  in  their  power  to  contribute 
to  the  safe  and  comfortable  maintenance  of  human  life,  or  to  the 
advance  of  the  human  mind  in  knowledge  and  command. 

The  conditions  under  which  means  in  use  are  effectively  com- 
bined for  the  promotion  of  ends  in  view  have  been  set  forth  in 
part,  and  now  must  be  considered  further.  Institutions  have  be- 
come what  they  are  through  historical  processes  of  evolution,  and 
cannot  instantly  be  made  over  or  re-correlated.  Also,  they  are 
related  in  definite  ways  to  like-mindedness  and  to  variability. 
The  criticism  of  social  values  must  proceed  in  presupposition  and 
recognition  of  these  conditions. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS 

CONFLICTS  and  contradictions  among  ideas  and  beliefs  are  of 
various  degrees  and  of  various  modes  besides  that  specific  one 
which  we  call  logical  incompatibility.  A  perception,  for  example, 
may  be  pictorially  inconsistent  or  tonically  discordant  with  an- 
other perception ;  a  mere  faith  unsupported  by  objective  evidence 
may  be  emotionally  antagonistic  to  another  mere  faith,  as  truly  as 
a  judgment  may  be  logically  irreconcilable  with  another  judg- 
ment. And  this  wide  possibility  of  contradiction  is  particularly 
to  be  recognized  when  the  differing  ideas  or  beliefs  have  arisen 
not  within  the  same  individual  mind,  but  in  different  minds,  and 
are  therefore  colored  by  personal  or  partisan  interest,  and  warped 
by  idiosyncrasy  of  mental  constitution.  These  intermental  con- 
flicts are  more  extensive  and  more  varied  than  the  logical  duels 
that  are  intramental;  they  are  also  less  definite,  less  precise.  In 
reality  they  are  culture  conflicts,  in  which  the  opposing  forces,  so 
far  from  being  specific  ideas  only,  or  pristine  beliefs  only,  are  in 
fact  more  or  less  bewildering  complexes  of  ideas,  beliefs,  preju- 
dices, sympathies,  antipathies,  and  personal  interests. 

Any  idea  or  group  of  ideas,  any  belief  or  group  of  beliefs,  may 
happen  to  be,  or  may  become,  a  common  interest,  shared  by  a 
small  or  a  large  number  of  like-minded  or  potentially  like-minded 
individuals.  It  may  draw  and  hold  them  together  in  bonds  of 
acquaintance,  of  association,  even  of  cooperation.  So  it  may  play 
a  group-making  role.  Contradictory  ideas  or  beliefs,  therefore, 
may  play  a  group-making  role  in  a  double  sense.  Each  draws  into 
association  the  individual  minds  that  entertain  it  or  find  it  attrac- 
tive. Each  also  repels  those  minds  to  whom  it  is  repugnant,  and 
drives  them  toward  the  group  which  is  being  formed  about  the 
contradictory  idea  or  belief.  Contradictions  among  ideas  and 
beliefs,  then,  it  may  be  assumed,  tend  on  the  whole  to  sharpen  the 
lines  of  demarkation  between  group  and  group. 

i75 


1 76     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

These  assumptions  are,  I  suppose,  so  fully  justified  by  the 
everyday  observation  of  mankind,  and  so  confirmed  by  history, 
that  it  is  unnecessary  to  discuss  them,  or  in  any  way  to  dwell 
upon  them ;  but  it  should  be  not  unprofitable  to  inquire  what  kind 
or  type  of  groups,  distinctive  ideas  and  beliefs  and  the  inevitable 
contradictions  among  them  are  likely  to  create  and  to  main- 
tain within  the  progressive  populations  of  the  world,  from  this 
time  forth. 

Somewhat  more  than  three  hundred  years  ago,  Protestantism 
and  geographical  discovery  had  combined  to  create  conditions 
extraordinarily  favorable  to  the  formation  of  groups  or  associa- 
tions about  various  conflicting  ideas  and  beliefs  functioning  as 
nuclei;  and  for  nearly  three  hundred  years  the  world  has  been 
observing  a  remarkable  multiplication  of  culture  groups  of  two 
fundamentally  different  types.  One  type  is  a  sect,  or  denomina- 
tion, having  no  restricted  local  habitation,  but  winning  adherents 
here  and  there  in  various  local  communities,  provinces,  or  nations, 
and  having,  therefore,  a  membership  either  locally  concentrated  or 
more  or  less  widely  dispersed ;  either  regularly  or  very  irregularly 
distributed.  The  culture  group  of  the  other  type,  or  kind,  is  a 
self-sufficing  community.  It  may  be  a  village,  a  colony,  a  state, 
or  a  nation.  Its  membership  is  concentrated,  its  habitat  is  defined. 

To  a  great  extent,  as  everybody  knows,  American  colonization 
proceeded  through  the  formation  of  religious  communities.  Such 
were  the  Pilgrim  and  the  Puritan  commonwealths.  Such  were 
the  Quaker  groups  of  Rhode  Island  and  Pennsylvania.  Such 
were  the  localized  societies  of  the  Dunkards,  the  Moravians,  and 
the  Mennonites. 

As  late  as  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  American 
people  witnessed  the  birth  and  growth  of  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able religious  communities  known  in  history.  The  Mormon  com- 
munity of  Utah,  which,  originating  in  1830  as  a  band  of  relatives 
and  acquaintances,  clustered  by  an  idea  that  quickly  became  a 
dogma,  had  become  in  fifty  years  a  commonwealth  de  facto,  defy- 
ing the  authority  de  jure  of  the  United  States. 

We  are  not  likely,  however,  again  to  witness  a  phenomenon  of 
this  kind  in  the  civilized  world.  Recently  we  have  seen  the  rise 
and  the  astonishingly  rapid  spread  of  another  American  religion, 


GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS     177 

namely,  the  Christian  Science  faith.  But  it  has  created  no  com- 
munity group.  It  has  created  only  a  dispersed  sect.  It  is  obvious 
to  any  intelligent  observer,  however  untrained  in  sociological  dis- 
crimination he  may  be,  that  the  forces  of  Protestantism,  still 
dividing  and  differentiating  as  they  are,  no  longer  to  any  great 
extent  create  new  self-sufficing  communities.  They  create  only 
associations  of  irregular  geographical  dispersion,  of  more  or  less 
unstable  or  shifting  membership.  In  a  word,  the  conflicting-idea 
forces,  which  in  our  colonial  days  tended  to  create  community 
groups  as  well  as  sects,  tend  now  to  create  sectarian  bodies  only — 
mere  denominational  or  partisan  associations. 

A  similar  contrast  between  an  earlier  and  a  later  stage  of  cul- 
ture group-making  may  be  observed  if  we  go  back  to  centuries 
long  before  the  Protestant  Reformation;  there  to  survey  a  wider 
field  and  a  longer  series  of  historical  periods. 

It  is  a  commonplace  of  historical  knowledge  that  in  all  of  the 
earliest  civilizations  there  was  an  approximate  identification  of 
religion  with  ethnic  consciousness  and  of  political  consciousness 
with  both  religious  and  race  feeling.  Each  people  had  its  own 
tribal  or  national  gods,  who  were  inventoried  as  national  assets, 
at  valuations  quite  as  high  as  those  attached  to  tribal  or  national 
territory. 

When,  however,  Roman  imperial  rule  had  been  extended  over 
the  civilized  world,  the  culture  conflicts  that  then  arose  expended 
their  group-creating  force  in  bringing  together  like  believers  in 
sectarian  association.  Christianity,  appealing  to  all  bloods,  in  a 
measure  to  all  economic  classes,  and  spreading  into  all  sections  of 
the  eastern  Mediterranean  region,  did  not  to  any  great  extent 
create  communities.  And  what  was  true  of  Christianity  was  in 
like  manner  true  of  the  Mithras  cult,  widely  diffused  in  the  second 
Christian  century.  Even  Mohammedanism,  a  faith  seemingly 
well  calculated  to  create  autonomous  states,  in  contact  with  a 
world  prepared  by  Roman  organization  could  not  completely 
identify  itself  with  definite  political  boundaries. 

The  proximate  causes  of  these  contrasts  are  not  obscure.  We 
must  suppose  that  a  self-sufficing  community  might  at  one  time 
as  well  as  at  another  be  drawn  together  by  formative  beliefs. 
But  that  it  may  take  root  somewhere  and,  by  protecting  itself 


178    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

against  destructive  external  influences  succeed  for  a  relatively 
long  time  in  maintaining  its  integrity  and  its  solidarity,  it  must 
enjoy  a  relative  isolation.  In  a  literal  sense  it  must  be  beyond 
easy  reach  of  those  antagonistic  forces  which  constitute  for  it  the 
outer  world  of  unbelief  and  darkness. 

Such  isolation  is  easily  and  often  possible,  however,  only  in 
the  early  stages  of  political  integration.  It  is  always  difficult  and 
unusual  in  those  advanced  stages  wherein  nations  are  combined 
in  world-empires.  It  is  becoming  well-nigh  impossible,  now  that 
all  the  continents  have  been  brought  under  the  sovereignty  of  the 
so-called  civilized  peoples,  while  these  peoples  themselves,  freely 
communicating  and  intermingling,  maintain  with  one  another  that 
understanding  which  constitutes  them,  in  a  certain  broad  sense 
of  the  term,  a  world-society. 

The  proximate  effects  also  of  the  contrast  that  has  been  sketched 
are  generally  recognized. 

As  long  as  blood,  sympathy,  religious  faith,  and  political  con- 
sciousness are  approximately  coterminous,  the  groups  that  they 
form,  whether  local  communities  or  nations,  must  necessarily  be 
rather  sharply  delimited.  They  must  be  characterized  also  by 
internal  solidarity.  Their  membership  is  stable,  because,  to  break 
the  bond  of  blood  is  not  only  to  make  oneself  an  outcast^  but  is 
also  to  be  unfaithful  to  the  ancestral  gods ;  to  change  one's  religion 
is  not  only  to  be  impious,  but  is  also  to  commit  treason;  to  ex- 
patriate oneself  is  not  only  to  commit  treason,  but  is  also  to 
blaspheme  against  high  heaven. 

But  when  associations  of  believers,  or  of  persons  holding  in 
common  any  philosophy  or  doctrine  whatsoever,  are  no  longer 
self-sufficing  communities,  and  when  nations,  composite  in  blood, 
have  become  compound  in  structure,  all  social  groups,  clusters, 
or  organizations,  not  only  the  cultural  ones  drawn  together  by 
formative  ideas,  but  also  the  economic  and  the  political  ones, 
become  in  some  degree  plastic.  Their  membership  then  becomes 
to  some  extent  shifting  and  renewable.  Under  these  circum- 
stances any  given  association  of  men,  let  it  be  a  village,  a  religious 
group,  a  trade-union,  a  corporation,  or  a  political  party,  not  only 
takes  into  itself  new  members  from  time  to  time;  it  also  permits 
old  members  to  depart.  Men  come  and  men  go,  yet  the  associa- 


GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS     179 

tion  or  the  group  itself  persists.  As  group,  or  as  organization, 
it  remains  unimpaired. 

The  economic  advantage  secured  by  this  plasticity  and  renew- 
ableness  is  beyond  calculation  enormous.  It  permits  and  facili- 
tates the  drafting  of  men  at  any  moment  from  points  where  they 
are  least  needed,  for  concentration  upon  points  where  they  are 
needed  most.  The  spiritual  or  idealistic  advantage  is  not  less 
great.  The  concentration  of  attention  and  of  enthusiasm  upon 
strategic  points  gives  ever-increasing  impetus  to  progressive 
movements. 

Let  us  turn  now  from  these  merely  proximate  causes  and 
effects  of  group  formation,  to  take  note  of  certain  developmental 
processes  which  lie  further  back  in  the  evolutionary  sequence, 
and  which  also  have  significance  for  our  inquiry,  since,  when  we 
understand  them,  they  may  aid  us  in  our  attempt  to  answer  the 
question,  What  kind  of  group-making  is  likely  to  be  accomplished 
by  cultural  conflicts  from  this  time  forth? 

The  most  readily  perceived,  because  the  most  pictorial,  of  the 
conflicts  arising  between  one  belief  and  another  are  those  that 
are  waged  between  beliefs  that  have  been  localized  and  then, 
through  geographical  expansion,  have  come  into  competition 
throughout  wide  frontier  areas.  Of  all  such  conflicts,  that  upon 
which  the  world  has  now  fully  entered  between  occidental  and 
oriental  ideas  is  not  merely  the  most  extensive;  it  is  also  by  far 
the  most  interesting  and  picturesque. 

Less  picturesque,  but  often  more  dramatic,  are  the  conflicts 
that  arise  within  each  geographical  region,  within  each  nation, 
between  old  beliefs  and  new — the  conflicts  of  sequent,  in  dis- 
tinction from  coexistent  ideas;  the  conflicts  in  time,  in  distinc- 
tion from  the  conflicts  in  space.  A  new  knowledge  is  attained, 
which  compels  us  to  question  old  dogmas.  A  new  faith  arises, 
which  would  displace  the  ancient  traditions.  As  the  new  waxes 
strong  in  a  region  favorable  to  it,  it  begins  there,  within 
local  limits,  to  supersede  the  old.  Only  then,  when  the  conflict 
between  the  old  as  old,  and  the  new  as  new,  is  practically  over, 
does  the  triumphant  new  begin  to  go  forth  spatially  as  a  con- 
quering influence  from  the  home  of  its  youth  into  regions  out- 
lying and  remote. 


i8o     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

Whatever  the  form,  however,  that  the  culture  conflict  assumes, 
whether  serial  and  dramatic,  or  geographical  and  picturesque, 
its  antecedent  psychological  conditions  are  in  certain  great  es- 
sentials the  same.  Men  array  themselves  in  hostile  camps  on 
questions  of  theory  and  belief,  not  merely  because  they  are  vari- 
ously and  conflictingly  informed,  but  far  more  because  they  are 
mentally  unlike,  their  minds  having  been  prepared  by  structural 
differentiation  to  seize  upon  different  views  and  to  cherish  op- 
posing convictions.  That  is  to  say,  some  minds  have  become 
rational,  critical,  plastic,  open,  outlooking,  above  all,  intuitive  of 
objective  facts  and  relations.  Others,  in  their  fundamental  con- 
stitution have  remained  dogmatic,  intuitive  only  of  personal  atti- 
tudes or  of  subjective  moods,  temperamentally  conservative  and 
instinctive.  Minds  of  the  one  kind  welcome  the  new  and  wider 
knowledge;  they  go  forth  to  embrace  it.  Minds  of  the  other 
kind  resist  it. 

In  the  segregation  thus  arising,  there  is  usually  discoverable  a 
tendency  toward  grouping  by  sex. 

Whether  the  mental  and  moral  traits  of  women  are  inherent 
and  therefore  permanent,  or  whether  they  are  but  passing  effects 
of  circumscribed  experience,  and  therefore  possibly  destined  to 
be  modified,  is  immaterial  for  my  present  purpose.  It  is  not  cer- 
tain that  either  the  biologist  or  the  psychologist  is  prepared  to 
answer  the  question.  It  is  certain  that  the  sociologist  is  not.  It 
is  enough  for  the  analysis  that  I  am  making  now  if  we  can  say 
that,  as  a  merely  descriptive  fact,  women  thus  far  in  the  history 
of  the  race  have  generally  been  more  instinctive,  more  intuitive 
of  subjective  states,  more  emotional,  more  conservative  than  men; 
and  that  men,  more  generally  than  women,  have  been  intuitive  of 
objective  relations,  inclined  therefore  to  break  with  instinct  and 
to  rely  on  the  later-developed  reasoning  processes  of  the  brain, 
and  willing,  consequently,  to  take  chances,  to  experiment,  and  to 
innovate. 

If  so  much  be  granted,  we  may  perhaps  say  that  it  is  because 
of  these  mental  differences  that  in  conflicts  between  new  and  old 
ideas,  between  new  knowledge  and  old  traditions,  it  usually  hap- 
pens that  a  large  majority  of  all  women  are  found  in  the  camp 


GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS     181 

of  the  old,  and  that  the  camp  of  the  new  is  composed  mainly  of 
men. 

In  the  camp  of  the  new,  however,  are  always  to  be  found 
women  of  alert  intelligence,  who  happen  also  to  be  tempera- 
mentally radical ;  women  in  whom  the  reasoning  habit  has  asserted 
sway  over  instinct,  and  in  whom  intuition  has  become  the  true 
scientific  power  to  discern  objective  relations.  And  in  the  camp 
of  the  old,  together  with  a  majority  of  all  women,  are  to  be  found 
most  of  the  men  of  conservative  instinct,  and  most  of  those  also 
whose  intuitive  and  reasoning  powers  are  unequal  to  the  effort  of 
thinking  about  the  world  or  anything  in  it  in  terms  of  impersonal 
causation.  Associated  with  all  of  these  elements,  both  male  and 
female,  may  usually  be  discovered,  finally,  a  contingent  of  priestly 
personalities ;  not  necessarily  religious  priests,  but  men  who  love 
to  assert  spiritual  dominion,  to  wield  authority,  to  be  reverenced 
and  obeyed,  and  who  naturally  look  for  a  following  among  the 
non-skeptical  and  easily  impressed. 

Such,  very  broadly  and  rudely  sketched,  is  the  psychological 
background  of  culture  conflict.  It  is,  however,  a  background 
only,  a  certain  persistent  grouping  of  forces  and  conditions ;  it  is 
not  the  cause  from  which  culture  conflicts  proceed. 

Always  one  and  the  same  throughout  the  ages,  although  in  the 
course  of  human  history  it  has  assumed  endlessly  varied  outward 
shapes,  the  cause  of  all  conflict,  cultural,  economic,  juristic,  polit- 
ical, has  slowly  fashioned  also  their  psychological  factors.  From 
the  dawn  of  life  until  now  the  alternative  has  ever  and  again 
confronted  living  things,  to  change  their  habits  or  die.  By  far 
the  greater  part  of  them  have  prematurely  died  because  they  could 
not  change.  Of  the  survivors,  the  greater  part  have  lived  on  be- 
cause they  have  changed  unconsciously.  To  a  very  few,  of  the 
human  kind,  it  has  been  given  to  know  before  the  event  that 
change  must  come.  They  have  perceived  in  time  the  shifting  of 
external  relations,  and  this  perception  has  been  the  fearsome  New 
Idea  that  has  set  man  at  variance  against  his  father  and  the 
daughter  against  her  mother,  that  has  brought  not  peace  on  earth, 
but  the  sword. 

And  from  the  beginning  it  has  literally  been  true  that  a  man's 
foes  have  been  they  of  his  own  household.  Sheltered  in  some 


182     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

degree  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  women  have  rarely  felt,  as 
men  have  felt,  the  first  staggering  shock  of  new  conditions.  They 
have  rarely  been  compelled  to  change  their  outlook  and  their  way 
of  life  as  unexpectedly  and  decisively  as  men  have  had  to  change. 
They  have  been  able  therefore  to  cling  longer  to  the  established 
order,  and  to  cherish  for  it  a  lingering  sentiment,  a  deep  affection 
even,  that  vigorous  men  have  not  been  able  fully  to  share. 

From  the  beginning,  therefore,  whenever  the  necessity  for  a 
new  adjustment  of  life  to  its  conditions  has  arisen,  a  conflict 
between  old  and  new  habits,  between  old  and  new  convictions, 
between  old  and  new  sentiments,  has  been  precipitated,  and  it  has 
arrayed  the  rationalistic  or  kinetic  minds,  chiefly  men,  against  the 
instinctive  or  static  minds,  chiefly  women. 

Yet  from  the  beginning  another  tendency  also  has  been  mani- 
fest. The  approximate  identification  of  static  interest  with 
woman  and  of  innovating  interest  with  man,  never  absolute,  has 
become  more  and  more  imperfect. 

In  the  dim  past  of  the  primitive  age,  when  each  sex  had  its 
own  traditions  and  its  own  ritual,  each  was  taboo  to  the  other, 
except  as  the  taboo  could  be  broken  by  ceremonial  magic. 

Yet  that  primitive  cult  of  the  feminine,  it  is  necessary  to 
remember,  always  included  men  as  well  as  women.  Boys  who 
could  not  endure  the  formidable  initiation  ceremonies  that  would 
admit  them  to  the  cult  of  the  men,  were  consigned  to  the  camp 
of  the  women,  perhaps  for  life;  were  often  compelled  to  don 
female  costume  and  to  remain  with  the  women  while  their  more 
stalwart  brothers  went  forth  to  the  chase  or  to  war.  As  time 
went  on,  around  this  nucleus  of  women  and  effeminate  men 
gathered  an  ever-enlarging  accretion  of  men  somewhat  less  femi- 
nine in  mental  constitution,  although,  on  the  whole,  timid  and 
conservative,  and  therefore  antagonistic  to  a  broadly  masculine 
view  of  life.  At  length  men  of  strong  personality,  dogmatic  and 
authoritative,  including  old  and  clever  men  no  longer  fit  for  war, 
seeing  their  opportunity  to  establish  dominion,  threw  in  their 
fortunes  also  with  the  backward-looking  multitude.  In  the  camp 
thus  constituted,  there  developed  one  general  attitude  toward  life 
and  conduct,  one  general  scheme  of  piety  and  morals.  In  the 
boldly  masculine  camp  there  developed  another.  There,  superla- 


GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS    183 

lively  virile  minds  stood  ready  to  dare  new  risks.  Crudely  and 
awkwardly  but  fearlessly  experimenting,  they  perfected  new  ad- 
justments and  took  the  first  infinitely  difficult  steps  of  human 
progress. 

So,  while  priests  and  women  created  backward-looking  religion 
and  a  punctilious  morality  of  personal  behavior,  men  of  the  daring 
mood — prophet  and  discoverer,  warrior  and  reformer — created  a 
forward-looking  faith  and  fashioned  the  plastic  secular  structure 
of  economic,  juristic,  and  political  relations. 

From  the  moment  that  these  differentiations  are  established,  one 
new  adjustment  of  human  life  to  its  changing  conditions  follows 
swift  upon  another.  Culture  succeeds  culture.  That  which  in 
its  day  and  generation  is  practical  and  profane  is  transmuted  into 
the  sacred  and  ceremonial.  That  which  today  is  faith,  front-fac- 
ing and  alive,  tomorrow  will  have  become  reminiscent  religion, 
the  sentimental  worship  of  dead  ideas,  a  thing  of  gentle  memories 
and  regrets. 

For  long  ages,  each  new  faith  as  it  arises,  each  new  economic 
and  juristic  order,  is  locally  circumscribed.  It  cannot  pass  beyond 
the  bounds  of  a  rigid  political  organization,  and  these  are  identi- 
fied with  the  blood  of  tribe  or  nation. 

But,  little  by  little,  political  integration  is  achieved,  and  as  age 
after  age  goes  by,  each  new  culture  finds  a  wider  area  open  to  it 
for  possible  extension.  At  the  same  time  each  is  more  and  more 
restricted  as  a  community- forming  activity,  because  political 
integration  makes  isolation  difficult.  Thenceforward,  each  cul- 
ture beats  upon  every  other,  each  mingles  with  every  other,  until 
at  length  each  blends  with  all. 

The  significance  of  this  evolutionary  process  for  our  immediate 
question  I  conceive  to  be  somewhat  as  follows : 

We  are  practically  at  the  end  of  the  community-forming  stage 
in  culture  conflict.  Every  vigorous  group  of  ideas  or  beliefs  in 
the  world  will  henceforth  have  unhindered  way  to  propagate  itself 
geographically,  to  form  vast  associations  of  adherents. 

The  groups  so  formed  will  be  indefinite.  In  the  main  they 
will  be  plastic.  In  the  main  their  membership  will  be  mobile  and 
shifting. 

That  mobility  is  on  all  accounts  to  be  desired.    But  while  its 


1 84    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

gradual  increase  is  on  the  whole  inevitable,  it  will,  nevertheless,  in 
some  measure  be  restricted,  and  certain  tendencies  will  be  mani- 
fest toward  the  formation  of  relatively  definite  groups  of  rela- 
tively stable  membership.  The  cause  of  these  tendencies  will  be 
the  effort  which  each  of  these  contending  forces  will  make  to 
control  and  to  use  the  police  power  of  the  state. 

The  police  power  has  always  a  strictly  regional  or  territorial 
application.  A  municipal  ordinance  is  valid  for  that  local  area 
the  population  of  which  is  incorporated  as  borough  or  city.  The 
statute  of  the  commonwealth  applies  throughout  the  territory  of 
that  state,  but  not  elsewhere.  The  laws  and  administrative  orders 
of  a  national  government  have  force  within  its  territorial  bound- 
aries, but  not  beyond. 

It  follows  that  to  the  extent  to  which  the  use  of  the  police  power 
for  the  achieving  of  any  particular  purpose  is  effective  the  popu- 
lation to  which  it  is  applied  becomes  a  selected  group.  Opponents 
and  misdemeanants  are  eliminated,  or  forced  into  conformity. 
It  is,  therefore,  theoretically  possible  for  idea-forces,  including 
religious  faiths  and  moral  creeds,  still  to  create  community,  as 
well  as  sectarian,  groupings.  How  far  it  is  practically  possible  is 
perhaps  well  enough  illustrated  by  prohibition  legislation  in  its 
various  forms. 

If  now  we  wish  to  judge  what  use  is  likely  thus  to  be  made  of 
the  police  power  in  culture  conflict,  we  must  call  to  mind  the 
character  of  the  chief  groups  of  conflicting  ideas  at  present  ar- 
rayed against  each  other,  and,  as  far  as  can  be  foreseen,  likely  to 
maintain  their  antagonism  into  an  indefinitely  distant  future. 

The  chief  culture  conflict  today  is  the  world-wide  struggle 
between  scientific  secularism  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  various  cults  of  supernaturalism,  obscurantism,  and 
dogmatism.  On  the  side  of  the  cults  are  the  forces  of  sentiment 
and  inertia.  On  the  side  of  scientific  secularism  are  arrayed  the 
forces  of  practical  interest.  Science  makes  its  way  with  the  mul- 
titude, not  because  the  multitude  is  capable  of  understanding  it, 
or  even  of  greatly  caring  about  it,  but  chiefly  because  the  multi- 
tude sees  that  science  does  things.  It  safeguards  the  crops.  It 
prevents  or  controls  epidemics.  It  cuts  down  freight  rates,  and  it 
transmits  thought  through  pathless  wastes  of  firmament  and  sea. 


GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS     185 

Now  it  is  a  peculiarity  of  scientific  secularism — or  profane 
practicality,  if  we  prefer  so  to  describe  it — that,  with  all  its  power 
and  prestige,  it  has  not  been  disposed  thus  far  to  employ  the  police 
power  to  any  considerable  extent  in  furtherance  of  propagandism 
or  any  sort  of  social  group-making.  It  has  used  it  chiefly  for 
general  utilitarian  ends  as,  for  example,  to  enforce  sanitation, 
or  to  prevent  destructive  forms  of  exploitation,  like  child  labor. 
It  has  been  distinctly  opposed  to  any  use  of  the  police  power  to 
compel  assent  to  a  belief,  to  enforce  a  creed,  or  to  establish  any 
code  of  purely  personal  morals. 

On  the  other  hand,  dogmatic  supernaturalism  has  never  cared 
greatly  about  utilitarian  interests,  since  these  are  of  the  earth, 
and  materialistic.  But  since  the  dawn  of  history  dogmatic  super- 
naturalism  has  unhesitatingly  made  use  of  the  police  power,  when- 
ever it  has  been  in  a  position  to  do  so,  to  compel  assent  to  articles 
of  faith,  to  enforce  rules  of  purely  personal  conduct,  and  to 
establish  ceremonial  forms. 

Therefore  it  is  probable  that  to  the  extent  that  scientific  secular- 
ism commands  the  situation,  cultural  association  will  be  free.1 
To  the  extent  that  dogmatic  supernaturalism,  obscurantism, 
mysticism,  are  in  any  region  dominant,  we  may  expect  them  to 
use  the  police  power  to  create  group  solidarity. 

Much  will  depend,  accordingly,  upon  the  mental  composition  of 
the  various  regional  populations.  By  this  I  mean  that  much  will 
depend  upon  the  predominance,  in  any  given  region,  of  one  or 
another  mental  type.  The  inductive,  critical,  intellectual  mind, 
intuitive  of  objective  relations,  turns  naturally  to  scientific  secu- 
larism. The  mystical,  emotional,  subjectively  intuitive,  instinctive 
mind  as  naturally,  indeed  inevitably,  embraces  some  highly  re- 
spectable dogmatism  with  an  impressive  pedigree,  or  rushes  upon 
a  new-fangled  miracleism. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  we  seem  to  have  no  quite  appropriate 
descriptive  name  for  these  two  types  of  mind.  In  the  writings  of 
European  sociologists  they  are  commonly  designated  as  masculine 
and  feminine,  and  the  social  dominance  of  one  type  or  the  other 

1This  I  still  believe  to  be  true,  notwithstanding  all  that  has  happened 
since  1914. 


i86    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

is  called  masculinism  or  feminism.  This  usage  is  sometimes  car- 
ried to  the  point  of  labeling  entire  nations  by  sex-connoting  terms. 
Germany,  for  example,  was  by  Bismarck  called  a  masculine  na- 
tion, and  Russia  a  feminine  nation. 

If  the  analysis  of  the  two  mental  camps,  radical  and  conserva- 
tive, which  I  have  presented  in  the  foregoing  pages,  is  substantially 
accurate,  these  sex-connecting  tags  are  somewhat  inappropriate 
and  misleading.  If  we  adopted  them  for  scientific  purposes,  we 
should  be  compelled  to  say  that  the  prophet,  whether  man  or 
woman,  is  mentally  masculine,  and  that  the  priest,  whether  woman 
or  man,  is  mentally  feminine.  This  might  not  mystify  because, 
as  a  mere  satirical  conceit,  the  discrimination  has  long  been  fa- 
miliar. But  what  would  be  said  if  we  should  apply  this  nomen- 
clature to  the  business  population  of  the  United  States?  We 
should  then  be  compelled  to  class  as  masculine  the  business  minds 
of  an  engineering  type — minds  that  weigh,  measure,  calculate,  and 
plan,  and  to  class  as  feminine  all  business  minds  that  are  incapable 
of  grasping  the  conception  of  impersonal  causation.  This  would 
be  to  say  that  American  business  men  in  general  are  woman-like, 
since  they  are  unable  as  yet  to  find  any  better  explanation  of  com- 
mercial crisis  or  industrial  depression  than  the  truly  feminine 
hypothesis  that  the  administration  is  to  blame  for  it. 

But  while  we  cannot  describe  intellectualism  as  masculine,  .or 
instinctive  dogmatism  as  merely  feminine,  we  cannot,  I  think, 
afford  to  overlook  the  influence  of  so-called  feminism  when 
we  try  to  predict  which  of  the  conflicting  culture  forces  will  prob- 
ably be  ascendant  in  civilized  life  in  the  near  future. 

As  we  see  it  today,  feminism  is  difficult  to  analyze.  Doubtless 
we  may  discover  in  it  an  effort  by  intellectual  women  to  awaken 
large  numbers  of  their  sex  to  the  rational  life,  to  wean  them 
from  instinct,  and  to  make  their  outlook  increasingly  objective. 
It  appears,  however,  that  in  certain  respects  the  woman's  move- 
ment is  so  conducted  as  to  defeat  this  commendable  end. 

When,  for  instance,  women  make  up  their  minds  to  see  things 
"from  the  man's  point  of  view,"  how  shall  they  go  about  it? 

As  far  as  the  somewhat  skeptical  observer,  like  myself,  can 
judge,  they  imagine  that  they  are  getting  the  masculine  view 
when  they  draw  men  into  the  circle  of  their  own  projects  and 


GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS     187 

enterprises,  planned,  organized,  and  conducted  by  themselves.  I 
may  be  quite  wrong  in  my  interpretation  of  the  facts,  and  I  hold 
my  opinion  subject  to  revision,  but  at  present  I  am  sure  that  by 
this  process  of  influencing  and  converting  men,  women  get  nothing 
whatever  but  an  intensification  of  feminism.  They  get  "the  point 
of  view"  not  of  masculine  men,  but  of  two  somewhat  nondescript 
varieties;  namely,  first,  those  gentlemen  who  in  their  schoolboy 
days  preferred  daisies  and  buttercups  to  snowballs  and  "double 
rippers,"  and  second,  those  authoritative  persons  who  are  but  too 
glad  to  seize  upon  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  them  to  become 
the  confessors  and  demigods  of  a  worshipful  sex.  Such  always 
are  the  men  who  lend  themselves  to  those  moral  crusades  which 
proceed  on  the  assumption  that  there  is  only  a  quantitative  dif- 
ference between  virtue  of  private  vintage  and  the  virtue  that  is 
squeezed  and  barreled  at  the  public  winepress. 

To  this  particular  skeptic  now  speaking,  it  appears  that  the 
person  who  at  the  present  moment  is  commonly  styled  "the  new 
woman"  is  of  all  women  in  civilized  lands  the  most  thoroughly 
primitive.  So  far  from  seeing  life  from  the  man's  point  of  view, 
she  has  taken  herself  back  to  that  most  ancient  camp  of  her  sex 
from  whose  sacred  ground  all  strictly  non-feminine  men  were 
looked  upon  as  scandalous  and  taboo. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  does  not  seem  to  this  skeptic  that  woman 
necessarily  gets  the  man's  point  of  view  by  following  "the  good 
old  way,  the  simple  plan"  of  giving  herself  to  him  in  the  holy 
bonds  of  matrimony  and  bearing  numerous  sons  to  distribute  his 
property. 

In  reality,  her  getting  the  man's  point  of  view,  if  that  is  what 
she  wants  and  is  bound  to  have,  depends  altogether  upon  the  kind 
of  men,  including  father  and  brothers,  husbands,  sons,  and  ac- 
quaintances that  she  happens  to  consort  with.  If  she  is  thrown 
with  anabolic  gentlemen  only,  she  can  never  arrive  at  the  mascu- 
line outlook.  If  her  associations  are  with  masculine  men  she  will 
enjoy  that  outlook,  if  she  is  capable  of  seeing  it. 

Probably  nothing  can  with  so  much  certainty  be  counted  on  to 
bring  women  into  contact  with  men  of  essentially  masculine  type 
as  an  intellectual  education  and  the  cultivation  of  intellectual 
interests  in  intellectual  association  and  comradeship  with  men. 


1 88    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

But  this  in  my  judgment  is  not  to  be  achieved  by  the  ordinary 
processes  of  college  training  only.  Intellectual  principles  must 
be  applied  to  life,  and  women  must  be  associated  with  men  in 
making  the  application.  Of  the  many  spheres  of  activity  in 
which  this  may  be  done,  the  economic,  the  scientific,  the  literary, 
and  the  artistic  are  not  to  be  despised.  Yet,  after  all,  the  great 
realm  in  which  intellectual  principles  can  be  and  should  be  applied 
to  life  is  the  realm  of  politics,  and  possibly  women  in  general  will 
not  see  life  quite  as  men  see  it  until  they  fully  participate  in  the 
obligations  as  in  the  privileges  of  the  masculine  Brotherhood  of 
Machiavelli. 

If  such,  however,  is  the  truth,  argument  appears  to  end  in 
dilemma,  as  indeed,  most  arguments  on  practical  questions  do. 
For  it  is  not  probable  that  if  all  women  were  at  once  to  take  part 
in  political  life,  the  forces  of  true  radicalism,  of  scientific  secular- 
ism, could  make  headway,  or  even  hold  their  ground.  What  then 
would  become  "of  the  man's  point  of  view"?  The  dogmatic  pro- 
gram of  using  the  police  power  of  legislatures  and  the  courts 
to  compel  uniformity  of  moral  profession  and  pretense  would 
in  all  likelihood  be  used  to  the  uttermost.1  We  should  have  retro- 
gression from  free  and  plastic  association  toward  local  or  com- 
munity grouping  on  grounds — not  perhaps  of  belief,  as  in  bygone 
days,  but  at  least  of  "good  morals." 

Happily,  no  such  calamity  need  be  apprehended.  Great  num- 
bers of  women  are  yet  too  wedded  to  tradition  to  become  at  once 
politically  active.  Those  that  accept  political  obligations  will  in  a 
measure  be  transformed  and  broadened  by  them  before  the  multi- 
tude of  their  sisters  follows  their  example.  Therefore,  with  some 
confidence  we  may  still  hold  to  the  main  conclusion  that  this 
survey  of  forces  and  tendencies  of  culture  conflict  has  suggested. 
Political  integration  will  not  cease.  Scientific  secularism,  not  only 
through  its  appeal  to  the  intelligence  of  modern  man,  but  also 
through  its  sheer  practical  utility,  will  assuredly  hold  the  ground 
it  has  taken  and  make  further  gains.  Whatever  its  momentary 
victories,  the  old,  in  the  long  run,  cannot  overthrow  the  new, 
because  Its  own  inertia  incapacitates  it  for  continuous  aggressive 
action.  Therefore  we  may  reasonably  expect  that  the  world  of 
*  It  is,  in  1922. 


GROUP-MAKING  ROLE  OF  IDEAS  AND  BELIEFS     189 

social  relations  will  continue  from  this  time  on  to  become  less  and 
less  a  congeries  of  static,  solidaristic  groups,  and  more  and  more  a 
bewildering  complex  of  free  associations,  through  which  the  ener- 
gies of  mankind,  responsibly  economized,  will  freely  create  the 
things  of  human  good. 


CHAPTER  XI 

FOLKWAYS  AND  STATEWAYS 

IDEAS,  including  group-making  ideas,  and  policies,  including 
policies  of  control,  are  carried  out,  or  "realized,"  in  collective 
action  through  two  contrasting  procedures,  each  of  which  uses 
characteristic  means.  One  of  them  is  without  authority  to  com- 
mand, although  it  now  and  then  does  command,  and  it  is  not 
governmental  in  form  or  power;  the  other  commands,  and  it 
uses  all  arms  of  the  political  state  to  compel. 

The  value  of  non-governmental  mechanisms  and  methods  was 
emphasized  in  radical  political  theory  and  insisted  on  in  radical 
practical  politics  long  before  their  true  nature  was  understood; 
long,  indeed,  before  their  history,  variety  and  actual  performance 
were  known.  Men  temperamentally  rebellious  against  authority 
and  intellectually  convinced  that  the  government  which  governs 
least  is  best,  looked  to  voluntary  cooperation  to  initiate  and  carry 
on  most  of  the  enterprises  of  civilization.  In  particular,  they 
objected  to  governmental  meddling  in  business,  they  resented  gov- 
ernmental dictation  of  private  conduct,  and  they  distrusted 
governmental  activity  in  education.  The  classical  formulations 
of  this  creed  are  Mill's  Liberty  and  Spencer's  Social  Statics. 

If  one  were  looking  for  an  example  of  how  not  to  think  about 
human  behavior  one  could  hardly  hope  to  stumble  upon  anything 
better  for  the  purpose  than  a  political  platform  constructed  out 
of  laissez  faire  economics  and  utilitarian  ethics.  As  an  appeal  to 
reason  it  gets  the  assent  of  not  a  few  vigorous  intellects,  but  the 
masses  of  mankind  are  not  made  up  of  vigorous  intellects,  and 
political  parties  have  never  been  able  to  do  a  large  scale  business 
on  appeals  to  reason.  The  Liberal  party  of  Great  Britain  has 
been  Benthamite  and  the  Democratic  party  in  the  United  States 
has  been  Jeffersonian  on  occasions,  but  theoretical  consistency  has 
not  often  strengthened  them  with  electorates. 

190 


FOLKWAYS  AND  STATEWAYS  191 

The  practical  politician  has  always  known  what  the  psychologist 
and  the  sociologist  have  been  slow  to  learn,  that  "muddling 
through,"  as  the  Englishman  (not  without  a  touch  of  pride  per- 
haps) is  wont  to  describe  the  collective  behavior  of  Britons,  is  a 
general  practice.  It  has  been  the  method  of  the  human  race 
throughout  history.  Even  the  Frenchman,  with  all  his  love  of 
logic,  has  been  experimental  in  the  main.  He  has  arrived  at  an 
approximately  stable  republicanism  after  trial  of  most  of  the  pos- 
sibilities of  aristocracy  and  royal  despotism,  of  revolution  and 
communism,  of  dictatorship  and  militaristic  imperialism. 

This  does  not  mean  that  voluntaristic  cooperation  has  played  a 
smaller  part  than  government  in  human  affairs.  It  has  played 
an  immensely  larger  part,  but  it  has  been  a  thing  hit  upon  at  ran- 
dom, an  accumulation  of  accidental  combinations  of  efforts,  a 
slowly  developed  usage,  and  not  in  any  considerable  measure 
a  reasoned  contrivance. 

Among  the  earliest  scholarly  studies  of  the  history  and  preva- 
lence of  usage  were  Henry  Sumner  Maine's  writings  on  custom. 
The  first  scientific  account  of  its  origin  was  Walter  Bagehot's 
Physics  and  Politics.  In  that  little  book,  one  of  the  most 
valuable  contributions  to  sociology  ever  made,  the  true  character 
of  custom  is  clearly  exhibited,  and  its  functioning  in  the  collective 
struggle  for  existence  is  accurately  described.  In  one  particular, 
however,  it  leaves  a  wrong  impression,  as  Maine's  studies  also 
did,  namely  that  custom,  the  substance  of  early  society,  is  super- 
seded in  later  society  by  deliberation.  This  impression  is  con- 
veyed also  in  a  degree  by  Spencer's  Ceremonial  Institutions. 
How  far  from  the  whole  truth  it  is  we  were  made  aware  when 
William  Graham  Sumner  published  Folkways.  In  this  further 
unique  contribution  to  our  knowledge  of  society,  indispensably 
supplementing  Bagehot,  we  learn  how  large  and  pervading  is  the 
part  played  in  our  most  complex  modern  civilizations  by  modes 
of  voluntaristic  cooperation  that  began  nobody  knows  when  or 
how,  that  in  most  instances  have  been  modified  only  with  incred- 
ible slowness  throughout  the  generations,  and  that  are  resistant 
now,  as  always  hitherto,  to  rationalization. 

The  serious  student  of  these  matters  must  know  his  Bagehot 
and  Spencer  and  Sumner  at  first  hand.  Not  otherwise  can  he 


IQ2 

attain  appreciation  and  understanding  of  the  infinite  variety  and 
complexity,  the  quality  and  the  social  functioning  of  the  folk- 
ways and  the  mores :  of  all  that  we  have  called  ceremony,  usage 
and  custom,  manners  and  morals.  I  shall  make  no  attempt,  there- 
fore, to  summarize  the  matter  here.  Assuming  on  the  part  of  my 
readers  a  sufficient  acquaintance  with  it,  I  call  attention  to  some 
of  the  more  important  particulars  in  which  folkways  differ  from 
stateways  (the  governmental  ways  of  states)  and  stateways  from 
folkways,  and  to  the  ways  (a  highly  important  specialization  of 
ways),  in  which  these  fundamental  modes  of  human  behavior 
react  upon  one  another,  setting  bounds  to  the  scope  and  the 
performance  of  each. 

It  is  to  be  understood  that  while  all  prevailing  modes  of  volun- 
tary cooperation  are  folkways,  not  all  folkways  are  modes  of  co- 
operation. Anything  that  everybody  does  is  a  folkway,  and  so  is 
anything  that  most  or  even  many  persons  do  in  any  region  for  two, 
or  three,  or  many  generations. 

When  in  1888  I  went  to  Bryn  Mawr  to  live  I  found  myself 
curiously  interested  one  morning  in  "the  green  bag."  On  a  train 
going  into  Philadelphia  every  commuting  attorney  and  counselor- 
at-law  was  carrying  one.  .  In  the  Housatonic  and  Connecticut 
River  valleys,  where  I  had  spent  my  childhood  and  earlier  bread- 
winning  years,  I  had  never  seen  one,  although  I  happened  to  know 
something  about  the  history  of  the  thing  and  the  legal  connotations 
of  its  name.  Such  localization  of  a  folkway  is  one  of  the  more 
obvious  marks  of  its  true  character  as  a  spontaneous  or  uncon- 
trivecl  product  of  the  adaptations  and  adjustments  of  men  to 
environment  and  circumstance  .  It  is  itself  highly  adaptive.  It 
can  extend  widely  by  imitation,  or  so  identify  itself  with  the 
region  in  which  it  arose  or  to  which  it  was  transplanted  that  it 
remains  unknown  elsewhere.  In  contrast  to  this  fundamental 
characteristic  of  folkways,  stateways  extend  themselves  aggres- 
sively. The  state  itself  is  an  inclusive  organization  which  pro- 
claims authority  over  all  individuals  residing  within  defined  geo- 
graphical bounds,  admitting  them  into  its  citizenship  or  govern- 
ing them  as  aliens. 


FOLKWAYS  AND  STATEWAYS  193 

Because  the  folkway  is  adaptive  it  is  variable,  and  folkways, 
therefore,  become  various,  not  only  because  new  ways  from  time 
to  time  arise  out  of  new  circumstances  and  demands,  but  also 
through  differentiation.  One  has  only  to  call  to  mind  the  fluctua- 
tions of  fashion,  the  changing  forms  of  address  and  ceremony,  the 
rise  and  fall  of  recreations,  the  fleeting  fads  in  games  and  sports, 
to  realize  the  enormous  flexibility  of  folkways.  Stateways  tend 
toward  uniformity.  Governments  attempt  to  standardize  not  only 
rights  at  law  but  also  legal  procedure,  administrative  rules,  and 
the  conduct  of  citizens.  Legislators  are  intolerant  of  exceptions, 
bureaucrats  abominate  them,  and  courts,  while  finding  precedents 
for  them  when  moral  justice  or  the  rule  of  reason  requires,  do 
not  otherwise  make  them.  Trial  by  jury,  however,  which  medi- 
ates between  folkways  and  stateways,  is  a  venerable  if  not  always 
a  venerated  defense  against  the  governmentalists,  who  would  dic- 
tate and  ration  our  food  and  drink,  write  our  medical  prescrip- 
tions, cut  our  clothes,  tell  us  what  we  may  read  and  look  at,  and 
send  us  to  bed  at  curfew. 

Stateways  are  instituted  by  command,  backed  up  by  physical 
force.  They  are  formal,  as  machine-like  as  they  can  be  made, 
and  relentless.  Folkways  exert  pressure  which  may  be  resist- 
less, but  it  is  indefinable,  elastic  and  automatically  variable. 

At  a  seashore  club  of  the  quiet  sort  I  remarked  to  a  lady  whose 
associations  were  with  college  folk  and  writers,  that  habitues 
there,  most  of  them  apparently  intelligent,  did  not  desecrate  the 
place  with  intellectual  conversation.  "No,"  she  replied  with 
admonitory  severity,  "it  isn't  done."  There  you  have  the  true 
folkway  pressure,  or  control.  The  thing  is  done  or  it  isn't,  and 
you  know  (or  you  learn)  which. 

Means  or  devices  are  used,  to  be  sure,  but  they  are  countless 
and  protean.  They  range  from  silent  approval  or  disapproval  to 
taboo,  from  snubbing  to  bullying.  In  a  majority  of  instances  the 
lighter  means  suffice,  but  occasionally,  in  times  of  stress,  especially 
in  days  of  war  or  of  industrial  clash,  more  vigorous  measures  are 
resorted  to.  These  include  "drives,"  the  boycott  and  slacking,  the 
strike,  property-destroying  sabotage  and  violence,  and,  in  last 
resort,  the  use  of  physical  force  in  direct  action.  When  this 


194    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

happens  the  folkway  is  verging  on  revolution,  which,  in  fact,  is 
contemplated.  The  folkway  then  has  become  an  incipient  state- 
way. 

In  these  latest  named  phenomena  we  come  to  the  reactions  of 
folkways  and  stateways  upon  each  other. 

Antecedent  to  revolution,  and  usually  by  warning  preventive  of 
it,  are  folkways  of  disregard  and  disobedience  of  law  and  of  open 
opposition  to  government.  These  lower  the  state's  coercive 
efficiency,  and  admonish  it  to  reconsider  its  possibly  unjust  or 
inexpedient  command,  or  its  ruthless  or  arbitrary  policy. 

The  assumption  of  pre-sociological  political  science  that 
sovereignty  is  a  power  to  compel  obedience  was  never  quite  true 
and  probably  it  never  will  be.1  The  dean  of  one  of  our  most 
reputable  law  schools  said  to  me,  "You  couldn't  find  a  citizen  of 
this  or  of  any  other  American  commonwealth  who  is  not  a  law- 
breaker." Whether  or  not  he  was  right  in  his  belief,  it  is  true  that 
no  law  ever  enacted  has  been  obeyed  by  all  individuals  in  any 
group  or  class  of  citizens,  however  respectable.  It  is  also  true 
that  a  large  proportion  of  all  legislative  enactments  sooner  or  later 
fall  into  the  "dead  letter"  category.  Furthermore,  drastic  laws 
are  openly  contemned  by  great  numbers  of  otherwise  reputable 
citizens.  Laws  prescribing  Sunday  observance,  laws  like  the 
Dred  Scott  decision  maintaining  slavery,  laws  forbidding  discrim- 
ination on  account  of  color,  and  laws  prohibiting  alcoholic  drinks, 
are  notorious  American  examples. 

The  dictum  attributed  to  General  Grant,  often  quoted  and 
widely  accepted,  that  the  way  to  get  ruTof  a  bad  law  is  to  enforce 
it,  may  be  good  logic  but  it  is  not  historical  fact.  Laws  are  re- 
pealed only  when  law  breakers,  and  voters  who  would  be  law 
breakers  if  conscience  or  good  sense  would  permit  them  to  be,  are 
numerous  enough  and  courageous  enough  to  upset  legislative 
majorities.  Often  a  highly  provocative  law  cannot  be  repealed  by 
this  procedure  because  the  necessary  courage  is  lacking.  Out- 
spoken advocates  of  repeal  are  set  upon  as  irreligious  or  immoral, 
as  apologists  for  vice  and  crime,  or  as  anarchists  who  want  to 
destroy  property  and  upset  the  social  order.  Such  penalizing, 

1  See  Giddings,  The  Responsible  State. 


FOLKWAYS  AND  STATEWAYS  195 

which  is  meant  to  frighten  off  support  by  the  timid,  and  usually 
does,  is  itself  a  folkway.  It  is  powerless,  however,  against  the 
folkways  of  clandestine  disobedience,  and  when  these  flourish, 
disobedience  presently  ceases  to  be  clandestine.  Nothing  further 
happens  then,  perhaps  for  generations,  unless  new  attempts  to 
enforce  create  enough  irritation  to  provoke  organized  defiance,  as 
happened  in  the  case  of  slavery.  In  either  case  the  objectionable 
law,  whether  quietly  nullified  or  noisily  defied  is  not  done  away 
with  by  due  process  of  stateways,  until  these  have  been  changed  or 
mitigated  by  folkway  pressure. 

In  all  these  instances,  however,  the  folkways  are  attacked  by  the 
state,  which  may  or  may  not  prevail.  If  it  does  not  prevail,  it 
nevertheless  impedes  and  limits  folkway  achievement.  In  partic- 
ular it  forbids  and  undertakes  to  repress  the  use  in  folkway  action 
of  physical  force,  which  the  state  asserts  its  authority  to  monopo- 
lize. 

These,  then,  are  the  normal  reactions  of  folkways  and  stateways 
upon  each  other:  folkways  of  disobedience  nullify  laws,  and  now 
and  then  defy  the  stateways;  the  state  paralyzes  disobedience 
when  it  can ;  and  at  any  cost  it  makes  vigorous  effort  to  repress 
folkway  violence. 

Normally  these  contrary  forces  arrive  at  equilibrium.  Ways 
of  adjustment  develop,  and  in  these  society  attains  a  compromise 
of  liberty  with  security.  Out  of  trial  and  error  a  tradition  of 
general  consent  grows  up  that  the  state  shall  use  physical  force 
to  repel  invasion,  to  put  down  rebellion,  to  repress  organized  vio- 
lence and  mob  action,  and  to  penalize  crime.  No  equally  general 
consent  is  ever  reached  to  the  use  of  for^e  by  the  state  to  repress 
vice  and  to  correct  negligence.  This  province  remains  fighting 
ground  where  folkways  and  stateways  contend.  We  are  not  with- 
out indications,  however,  of  possible  truce.  When  vice  or  negli- 
gence threatens  social  existence  because  folkways  have  failed  to 
repress,  or  to  meet  urgent  needs,  action  by  the  state  is  usually 
assented  to ;  but  when  folkways  are  presumably  adequate  to  the 
occasion,  objection  to  state  interference  and  resentment  against  it, 
extend  and  deepen-  The  possibilities  of  truce  are  measured,  how- 
ever, by  the  intelligence  and  the  education  of  the  population.  To 
see  when  folkways — spontaneous,  elastic,  and  adaptable — are 


196    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

adequate  to  correct  and  superior  to  improve,  and,  conversely,  to 
see  when  state  interference  is  indubitably  called  for,  is  not  given 
to  ignorance  or  to  stupidity. 

The  interactions  of  folkways  and  stateways  are  further  ex- 
hibited in  the  next  two  following  chapters. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SOCIAL  SELF-CONTROL 

AT  a  meeting  of  the  inhabitants  of  Dorchester,  Massachusetts, 
on  October  28,  1634,  it  was  "agreed  that  whosoever  is  chosen  into 
any  office  for  the  good  of  the  plantation,  he  shall  abide  by  it  or 
submit  to  a  fine  as  the  company  shall  think  meet  to  impose." 
Less  than  a  week  later,  on  November  3,  it  was  "ordered  that  no 
man  within  the  plantation  shall  sell  his  house  or  lott  to  any  man 
without  the  plantation  whom  they  shall  dislike  of."1 

In  voting  these  measures  the  people  of  Dorchester  only  made 
definite  and  explicit  a  general  policy  adopted  by  all  the  early 
New  England  towns,  and  for  a  long  time  adhered  to.  No  one  was 
a  franchise-exercising  member  of  a  town  until  he  was  formally 
admitted  as  a  freeman,  and  at  the  outset  church  membership  was 
a  condition. 

Historically  interesting  because  of  the  conditions  which  it  was 
intended  to  meet  and  because  of  the  specific  tests  that  were  applied 
in  carrying  it  out,  this  policy  was  not  new  or  exceptional  as  a  phe- 
nomenon of  community  action.  Since  human  beings  began  to 
dwell  together  in  groups  and  to  work  together  in  bands  or  com- 
panies, the  groups  and  the  bands  have  exercised  supervision  over 
their  membership  and  over  the  conduct  of  their  members.  On  a 
larger  scale  than  elsewhere,  or  before  in  history,  the  United  States, 
through  its  immigration  and  naturalization  laws,  exercises  super- 
vision over  the  membership  of  a  national  community;  and  our 
local  state  and  federal  laws  probably  comprise  the  largest  body 
of  rules  of  conduct  ever  enacted  by  a  politically  organized  popula- 
tion for  the  regulation  of  individual  life. 

It  is  not  for  the  purpose  of  recalling  a  chapter  of  American 
history,  however  interesting  it  may  be  in  itself,  that  these  facts 
are  here  set  down.  They  are  given  because  they  happen  to  exhibit 

1  Fourth  Report  of  the  Record  Commissioners  of  Boston  (1880),  docu- 
ment 9,  pp.  7,  8. 

197 


ig8    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

clearly  a  social  phenomenon  that  too  often  has  been  overlooked 
or  forgotten  in  the  construction  of  social  science,  but  which  may 
prove  to  be  the  point  of  departure  for  important  discriminations. 
The  minutes  cited  from  the  Dorchester  record  quite  plainly 
show  that  the  inhabitants  of  that  town  were  looking  after  the 
make-up  of  their  community  and  the  conduct  of  its  members  for 
at  least  two  distinct  purposes.  The  resolution  that  a  man  chosen 
to  office  must  undertake  its  duties  or  pay  a  penalty  shows  that 
the  Dorchester  folk  assumed  that  they  were  collectively  doing 
something,  not  idly  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  neighborly  association 
while  pursuing  merely  individual  ends.  Translated  into  the  com- 
pact language  of  these  latter  days,  the  resolution  tells  us  that  the 
townsmen  of  Dorchester  understood  that  they  were  attempting 
"team  work,"  and  that  every  man  in  the  enterprise  must  accept 
that  particular  part  of  the  task  which  "the  team"  assigned  to  him. 
The  second  resolution  manifests  an  alert  consciousness  of  the 
importance  of  group  cohesion,  a  thing  even  more  essential  than 
individual  efficiency  as  a  factor  in  common  enterprise.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  community  must  be  agreeable  one  to  another.  The 
man  "disliked  of"  should  be  kept  out. 

Let  us  apply  a  bit  of  analysis  to  these  elementary  facts.  The 
common  activity  of  a  community  of  the  simpler  sort — a  neighbor- 
hood group  of  farmer  folk,  for  example — may  be  extremely  slight. 
Its  team  work  may  for  a  long  time  be  potential  only,  a  mere  readi- 
ness to  undertake  the  common  defence,  if  necessary,  or  to  co- 
operate in  some  emergency,  as  of  flood  or  fire.  In  a  large  and 
complex  community  the  team  work  is  actual,  often  energetic, 
carefully  organized  and  extremely  varied.  It  provides  for  the 
common  safety.  It  engages  in  the  production  of  wealth.  It 
establishes  and  maintains  those  rules  of  the  game  which  collec- 
tively are  called  law,  and  it  carries  on  government  to  ascertain 
and  to  apply  the  common  will. 

But  whether  actual  and  organized  or  only  potential  and  un- 
formed, the  collective  activity  of  any  group  of  human  units 
obviously  presents  to  scientific  view  two  unmistakably  different 
aspects.  A  community  collectively  does  things  for  itself — that  is, 
for  its  members — and  it  collectively  does  things  to  or  upon  itself, 


SOCIAL  SELF-CONTROL  199 

scrutinizing  and  determining  its  membership,  scrutinizing  and 
censoring  conduct.  It  does  things  collectively  for  itself,  because 
experience  has  shown  that  many  things  can  be  accomplished  by 
collective  action  or  team  work  that  cannot  be  accomplished  ade- 
quately or  at  all  by  individual  effort.  It  does  things  to  itself, 
because  experience  has  shown  that  not  every  aggregate  of  indi- 
viduals can  carry  on  team  work  effectively  or  even  live  together 
amicably. 

This  differentiation  of  social  function  into  collective  action 
for  and  collective  action  upon  society  would  seem  to  be  funda- 
mental. If  it  is,  we  apparently  have  here  the  point  of  departure 
for  a  working  distinction  between  certain  special  social  sciences 
and  a  more  general  science  of  society.  It  is  clear,  for  example, 
that  the  economist,  in  studying  the  social  production  and  distribu- 
tion of  wealth,  is  primarily  investigating  the  action  of  the  com- 
munity in  doing  an  important  work  for  its  productive  units.  He 
concerns  himself  only  incidentally  with  the  reactions  of  economic 
activity  upon  the  social  composition  and  structure.  In  like  man- 
ner the  jurist,  in  studying  the  nature  and  the  evolution  of  legal 
relations  and  activities,  and  the  student  of  political  science,  in 
examining  the  nature  and  the  evolution  of  government,  are  pri- 
marily looking  at  social  functioning  as  it  bears  directly  upon  the 
well-being  of  component  elements  of  society,  although  incidentally 
or  secondarily  they  may  be  interested  in  consequent  modifications 
of  the  integral  social  order.  On  the  other  hand,  a  student  who 
has  followed  the  genesis  of  the  community  itself  and  has  observed 
that  sooner  or  later  it  becomes  aware  of  itself  as  a  community 
and  begins  consciously  to  react  upon  itself,  may  then  direct  his 
further  inquiries  upon  the  nature,  scope  and  consequences  of  the 
reaction.  If  he  does  this,  he  is  engaged  upon  investigations  which, 
in  recent  years,  have  been  grouped  under  the  name  of  general 
sociology. 

In  offering  this  distinction  between  general  sociology  and  the 
special  social  sciences,  I  suppose  that  I  am  not  making  an  essen- 
tially new  generalization;  certainly  I  am  not  doing  violence  to 
usage.  For  the  distinction  itself,  I  think,  has  unconsciously 
grown  up  in  usage,  and  I  am  here  merely  recognizing  it,  pointing 
out  the  two  distinct  aspects  of  social  functioning  upon  which  it 


200     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

rests  and  putting  it  in  explicit  terms  for  more  convenient  appli- 
cation. 

Assuming,  then,  that  general  sociology,  whatever  else  it  may 
comprise,  is  particularly  concerned  with  the  phenomenon  of  social 
self-control,1  including  under  this  term  the  social  determination 
of  the  composition  of  the  community,  the  control  of  conduct,  the 
promotion  of  efficiency,  the  shaping  of  social  organization  and 
the  determination  of  general  policies,  we  may  further  look  at  the 
whole  subject  in  certain  other  lights,  hoping  so  to  get  a  more 
rounded  notion  of  what  social  self-control  is,  how  it  arises,  what  it 
does  and  by  what  methods  it  may  be  subjected  to  effective  scien- 
tific study. 

All  nations  compel  their  subjects  to  live  under  restraints  and  to 
perform  prescribed  acts.  As  far  as  their  observed  conduct  goes, 
subjects  must  be  loyal,  whether  or  not  they  are  patriotic  at  heart. 
In  a  lesser  degree  the  modern  nations  constrain  their  subjects  in- 
accordance  with  some  prevailing  idea  of  the  common  good.  A 
protective  tariff,  for  example,  does  not  altogether  prevent,  but 
it  restricts,  the  purchase  of  desired  commodities  produced  abroad. 

Within  the  broad  limits  fixed  by  national  policy,  states  and 
municipalities  regulate  the  individual  lives  of  their  citizens  in 
endless  detail.  From  birth  to  death  the  pressure  of  organized 
society  is  hourly  felt  by  its  conscious  units.  Parental  authority 
is  restrained  wifhin  bounds  which  the  state  prescribes.  At  the 
command  of  the  state  the  child  is  taught  and  drilled.  Growing 
to  manhood,  he  orders  his  walk  and  conversation  as  the  state  in- 
structs, or  he  languishes  in  jail. 

If  the  citizen,  thus  reared  and  moulded  by  an  external  power 
manifesting  itself  through  government  and  law,  happens  to  be  a 
religious  as  well  as  a  political  animal,  he  finds  himself  subjected 
to  further  rules  and  orders.  The  church  to  which  he  belongs 
exacts  an  obedience  sanctioned  by  penalties  which  may  be  as 
fearsome  to  his  mind  as  are  the  fines  and  imprisonments  im- 

*In  employing  this  term  I  am  not  trying  to  improve  upon  the  phrase 
made  familiar  through  Professor  Ross's  admirable  book  on  Social 
Control  but  am  only  examining  some  aspects  of  social  control  more 
particularly. 


SOCIAL  SELF-CONTROL  201 

posed  by  a  secular  power.  If  he  earns  his  bread  in  the  sweat  of 
his  brow,  he  discovers  that  he  is  only  partly  free  to  work  as 
he  pleases,  or  when  or  as  long  as  he  pleases,  or  to  make  such 
contracts  as  his  own  best  judgment  approves.  The  "walking 
delegate"  finds  him  out  and  instructs  him  in  the  ethics  of  industrial 
solidarity.  If  in  idleness  he  consumes  the  substance  that  other 
men  have  provided  and,  in  the  quiet  of  his  club,  seeks  refuge  from 
the  over-regulated  life  of  a  Philistine  world,  even  there  he  encoun- 
ters the  rules  committee  taking  cognizance  of  his  language  and 
his  drinks,  and  standing  ready  to  exclude  him  if  he  oversteps  the 
line  of  that  conduct  which  is  reputable  among  gentlemen. 

In  barbarian  and  in  savage  communities  the  collective  regula- 
tion of  life  is  not  less  but  greater  than  it  is  in  the  civilized  state. 
The  bounds  that  may  not  be  overstepped  are  narrow  and  dread. 
Immemorial  custom  is  inflexible,  and  half  of  all  the  possible  joys 
of  existence  are  forbidden  and  taboo. 

Even  in  animal  bands  and  herds,  individual  behavior  is  con- 
strained. Inadequate  or  obnoxious  members  of  the  company  are 
abandoned,  expelled  or  killed  by  their  fellows.  We  do  not  presume 
that  in  animal  groups  there  is  any  cooperative  understanding  in 
these  matters.  We  cannot  suppose  that  there  is.  But  through 
like  response  to  the  same  stimulus  or  to  similar  stimuli,  through 
suggestion  and  impression,  a  real  although  non-reasoned  coopera- 
tion is  effected.  While,  therefore,  we  may  not  say  that  animal 
society  abides  by  rules,  we  observe  that  it  lives  by  habits  from 
which  a  member  departs  only  at  the  risk  of  life. 

There  would  be  no  excuse  for  bringing  forward  observations 
so  commonplace  as  these  if  the  general  truth  which  they  thrust 
upon  us  had  not  been  very  nearly  left  out  of  consideration  in 
our  attempts  to  establish  the  broad  conceptions  of  a  science  of 
society.  Whatever  else  society  is,  it  is  a  group  of  units  and 
relations  which  collectively  acts  under  self-direction.  It  not  only 
manifests  a  continuing  process,  as  brain  and  nervous  system 
manifest  the  processes  of  mind,  as  organic  matter  manifests  the 
processes  of  life,  but  also,  like  living  matter  and  like  mind,  it  con- 
trols its  own  processes.  Society  constrains.  Unconsciously  at 
first,  but  consciously  in  its  later  and  higher  development,  it  brings 


202     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

pressure  to  bear  upon  its  component  units.  It  incites  and  re- 
strains them.  It  trains  and  moulds  them.  It  conforms  them  to 
a  norm  or  type  and  sets  limits  to  their  variation  from  it. 

Here,  then,  we  have  a  generalization  of  significance.  Society 
4s  a  type  or  norm  or  mode,  which  in  a  measure  controls  the  varia- 
tions from  itself. 

In  thus  functioning,  society,  by  trial  and  error  and  by  rational 
effort,  carries  further  and  brings  to  greater  precision  that  process 
which  in  its  unconscious  mode  we  call  natural  selection.  In  the 
organic  struggle  for  existence  those  individuals  and  those  groups 
survive  which  are  adapted  to  the  conditions  under  which  they 
dwell.  This  is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  organisms  which 
in  some  fortunate  way  combine  certain  structures,  qualities  and 
traits,  and  which,  therefore,  conform  closely  to  a  type  that  hap- 
pens to  be  suited  to  a  given  place,  can  live  there ;  while  individuals 
or  groups  that  vary  too  widely  from  this  type  sooner  or  later  fail 
there  to  perpetuate  their  race.  Or,  to  put  it  in  yet  another  way, 
in  every  inhabitable  region  there  is  an  environmental  constraint, 
compelling  conformity  of  organic  structure  and  of  life  to  certain 
adapted  or  adaptable  types,  from  which  variation  is  possible  only 
within  somewhat  definite  limits. 

It  is  because  of  this  conformity  to  type  that  society  arises. 
Typical  units  or  individuals  of  a  given  species  or  variety  are  alike 
as  far  as  they  are  typical.  Animate  individuals  that  closely  re- 
semble one  another  respond  in  like  ways  to  the  same  given  stim- 
ulus or  to  similar  stimuli.  So  organized  and  responding,  they 
want  the  same  things  and  by  similar  behavior  try  to  obtain  them. 
If  the  supply  is  inadequate  for  all  and  some  part  of  it  can  be 
obtained  by  individual  effort,  like  acts  develop  into  competition. 
If  the  supply  is  adequate  for  all  but  cannot  easily  be  obtained  by 
individual  effort,  the  like  efforts  of  many  individuals  directed 
toward  the  same  end  develop,  unconsciously  and  accidentally  at 
first,  but  afterwards,  in  mankind,  rationally,  into  cooperation.  In 
either  case,  those  adaptations  which  the  animate  organism,  in 
common  with  all  others,  makes  directly  to  its  environment  in  gen- 
eral, are  supplemented  by  a  set  of  highly  complicated  adjustments 
made  to  the  similar  adaptations  of  other  units  like  itself. 


SOCIAL  SELF-CONTROL  203 

These  adjustments  of  animate  individuals  to  the  like  adapt- 
ations of  other  individuals  of  their  own  kind  are  the  bases  of 
social  relations.  Repeated  and  developed  into  habits,  they  create 
and  establish  those  relationships  which  we  call  social  organization. 

The  similarity  which  is  antecedent  to  all  these  adjustments  and 
relations  becomes  to  some  extent  an  object  of  consciousness  in  all 
associating  creatures  of  the  higher  varieties.  Appearing  first  as 
sympathy,  it  develops  into  a  perception  of  likeness  and  at  length, 
in  mankind,  into  a  more  or  less  rationalized  understanding  of  re- 
semblances and  differences,  of  agreements  and  dissensions.  Step 
by  step  with  this  evolution  of  a  consciousness  of  kind,  the  impor- 
tance of  "kind"  itself  is  apprehended.  Fundamental  identities  or 
similarities  of  nature  and  purpose,  of  instinct  and  habit,  of  mental 
and  moral  qualities,  of  capacities  and  abilities,  are  recognized  as 
factors  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  To  the  extent  that  safety 
and  prosperity  depend  upon  group  cohesion  and  cooperation,  they 
are  seen  to  depend  upon  such  conformity  to  type  as  may  suffice  to 
insure  the  cohesion  and  to  fulfil  the  cooperation. 

Conforming  to  the  requirement  of  group  life — which  itself  is  a 
product  of  the  struggle  for  existence — animals  instinctively  and 
by  habit,  human  beings  instinctively,  by  habit,  and  rationally, 
manifest  a  dominant  antipathy  to  those  variations  from  type 
which  attract  attention.  There  are  striking  exceptions  to  this  rule, 
as  there  are  to  nearly  all  rules  of  behavior  by  organic  units.  But 
the  rule  is  beyond  question.  From  the  insects  to  the  highest  mam- 
mals, individuals  deformed  or  queer  are  commonly  objects  of 
attack  and  may  be  put  to  death  by  their  fellows.  Death  or  aban- 
donment usually  overtakes  the  conspicuous  variates  among  sav- 
ages and  barbarians,  while  in  civilized  communities  they  are  ob- 
jects of  suspicion  and  avoidance,  or  of  guardianship  or  restraint, 
according  to  the  state  of  enlightenment  and  the  degree  of  humane 
feeling. 

How  far  individual  conduct  in  swarms  of  insects  and  in  bands 
of  gregarious  animals  is  forced  into  conformity  to  type  by  an 
instinctive  adjustment,  distinct  from  a  circumstantial  constraint, 
it  is  not  possible  on  the  basis  of  present  knowledge  to  say.  That 
the  uniformity  of  human  conduct  in  savage  and  barbarian 
communities  is  immediately  a  product  of  social  constraint — largely 


204    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

spontaneous,  imitative  and  unconscious,  but  also  partly  conscious 
and  deliberate — and  only  remotely  and  indirectly  a  product  of 
environmental  or  circumstantial  constraint,  is  a  fact  too  familiar 
to  call  for  demonstration.  By  the  conscious  cooperation  of  elders 
in  directing  the  rearing  of  children  by  young  parents,  by  organ- 
ized initiation  ceremonies,  by  clan  and  tribal  councils,  each  new 
generation  is  remorselessly  trained  in  those  beliefs,  habits  and 
loyalties  which  the  group  regards  as  vital  to  its  existence.  Care- 
fully analyzed,  the  entire  mass  of  inculcations  and  restrictions 
whereby  individual  behavior  is  controlled  in  uncivilized  society 
may  be  seen  to  be  a  means  of  enforcing  conformity  to  type,  of 
recognizing  and  maintaining  a  "kind,"  for  the  ulterior  purpose  of 
ensuring  group  cohesion  and  cooperative  efficiency. 

The  restraints,  the  inculcations,  the  obedience-compelling  de- 
vices of  civilized  society  are  so  varied  and  so  interlaced  that  they 
easily  mislead,  and  it  is  only  after  long  and  comprehensive  study 
of  them  that  one  begins  to  grasp  their  nature  and  function. 
Stripped  of  all  adventitious  features,  they  one  and  all  are  means  to 
the  same  general  end  which  is  served  by  social  constraint  in  bar- 
barian and  in  savage  communities.  They  determine,  limit  and 
control  variation  from  type,  now  extending  its  range,  now  nar- 
rowing it  and  compelling  a  closer  conformity. 

A  word  must  here  be  added  regarding  the  consequences  of 
social  control.  Society  constrains.  What  are  the  effects  of  con- 
straint ? 

The  proximate  results  are  new  or  wider  uniformities  of  be- 
havior and  ultimately  of  character.  Life  is  made  so  difficult  for 
the  variates  that  stray  too  far  from  type  that  they  go  down  in  the 
struggle.  Society,  in  a  word,  create?  artificial  conditions  of  exist- 
ence which  affect  selection,  as  natural  conditions  do,  by  determin- 
ing a  selective  death-rate.  When,  for  example,  a  Christian  civili- 
zation compels  a  savage  population  to  wear  clothes,  it  kills  off 
those  individuals  whose  viscera  cannot  adapt  themselves  to  the 
unaccustomed  burden.  When  society  increases  its  educational 
pressure,  it  eliminates  some  who  cannot  endure  further  nerve 
strain  or  whose  reproductive  powers  fail  under  the  increased  re- 
quirement of  individuation.  Social  constraint,  then,  creates  arti- 


SOCIAL  SELF-CONTROL  205 

ficial  conditions,  which  act  selectively  upon  the  associated  units. 
From  a  human  point  of  view,  such  selective  action  may  be  good 
or  evil.  It  may  tend  to  produce  and  to  perpetuate  a  stock  of 
which  intelligent  minds  think  well,  or  one  of  which  they  think  ill. 
From  the  point  of  view  of  the  evolutionary  process,  the  selected 
and  surviving  stock  may  be  one  which  perpetuates  its  line  with 
diminishing  or  with  increasing  cost  to  the  individual.  Assuming 
that  race  perpetuation  with  diminishing  cost  to  the  individual,  or 
with  actual  increase  of  individual  opportunity  and  happiness,  is 
worth  while  and  is,  substantially,  the  thing  which  mankind  calls 
progress,  we  may  say  that  social  constraint  makes  for  progress  or 
against  it. 

Summarizing  the  foregoing  observations,  we  note  that  the  un- 
conscious evolutionary  process  in  nature  creates  types.  Because 
they  conform  more  or  less  closely  to  type,  animate  organisms 
of  the  same  variety  or  kind  want  the  same  things  and  in  like 
ways  try  to  obtain  them.  The  various  primary  adaptations  to 
environment,  therefore,  are  inevitably  supplemented  by  adjust- 
ments made  by  each  individual  to  the  similar  adaptations  of 
fellow-individuals.  Group  relations  in  which  both  competitive 
and  cooperative  activities  are  carried  on — unconsciously  and  only 
accidentally  at  first,  but  presently,  in  the  human  species,  deliber- 
ately— therefore  necessarily  appear.  Society  comes  into  exist- 
ence. The  conscious  units  of  human  society  become  increasingly 
aware  of  differences  and  resemblances  among  themselves.  They 
apprehend  the  extent  of  their  conformity  to  type  or  kind.  The 
belief  arises  among  them  that  in  most  instances  marked  departure 
from  type  is  dangerous  to  the  safety  of  the  group  or  is  a  limitation 
of  cooperative  efficiency.  Conformity  to  type  is  regarded  as  con- 
tributing both  to  the  safety  and  to  the  efficiency  of  the  group. 
Out  of  this  notion  grow  conscious  efforts  to  increase  conformity, 
to  scrutinize  the  "kinds"  and  to  limit  the  range  of  variation.  A 
social  constraint  is  consciously  evolved  which  exerts  its  pressure 
upon  all  component  units  of  the  group.  Like  environmental  con- 
straints, social  constraint  affects  selection.  In  the  long  run  it 
makes  itself  felt  in  the  selective  death-rate.  The  kind  or  type  that 
survives  under  social  pressure  is  believed  by  the  conscious  units 


206    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

of  society  to  be  relatively  efficient  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 
It  is  supposed  also  to  be  relatively  individualized.  A  group  or 
community  in  which  increasing  individuation  is  secured  without 
imperiling  race  maintenance  thinks  of  itself  as  progressive. 

The  means  of  constraint  that  society  uses,  as  we  learn  early  in 
life  by  individual  experience,  are  rewards  and  punishments.  By 
praise  and  blame,  by  avoidance  and  rebuke,  by  indulgence  and 
license,  by  penance  and  fine,  by  suspension  and  expulsion,  by  cor- 
poral punishment  and  maiming,  by  imprisonment  and  execution, 
men  are  forced  to  desist,  to  obey,  to  help ;  their  conduct  is  edu- 
cated into  habits ;  their  efforts  are  stimulated  or  goaded  to  accept- 
able degrees  of  intensity  and  persistence;  their  characters  are 
moulded  to  approved  types. 

For  all  these  processes  of  constraint  and  regulation  in  their 
entirety,  society  has  its  own  descriptive  names.  Collectively  they 
constitute  the  thing  familiarly  known  as  discipline,  and  their 
objective  product,  conformity  of  behavior,  is  morale. 

Upon  the  creation  and  perfecting  of  discipline,  and  upon 
the  standardizing  of  behavior  and  the  selection  of  character  by 
means  of  discipline,  society  has  directed  conscious  efforts  from 
the  beginning.  At  first  blunderingly,  afterwards  more  or  less 
skillfully,  it  has  discovered,  applied  and  tested  disciplinary 
measures.  The  larger  number  and  the  best  of  them  have  been 
folkways.  Stateways  have  been  cruder,  often  cruel  and  often 
disastrous,  but  sometimes  necessary  and  effective.  But  whether 
folkways  or  stateways  the  particular  methods  constituting  disci- 
pline have  been  employed  in  the  conviction  that  much  conformity 
to  kind  or  type  or  standard  is  essential  to  security  and  to  co- 
operative efficiency.  The  object  in  view  from  the  first  has  been 
to  diminish  the  failures  and  to  multiply  the  successes  of  associat- 
ing human  beings,  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 

If  then  we  say  in  the  language  of  every-day  life,  that  society  is 
an  organization  for  the  promotion  of  well-being  and  efficiency  by 
means  of  standardization  and  discipline,  we  say  the  same  thing  as 
when  in  evolutionist  terms  we  said  that  society  is  a  type,  control- 
ling variation  from  itself  for  its  own  survival  and  further  evolu- 
tion. Discipline,  from  the  evolutionist  point  of  view,  is  a  distinct 


SOCIAL  SELF-CONTROL  207 

phenomenon,  differing  in  kind,  rather  than  in  mere  degree,  from 
all  others.  Motion,  the  activity  of  all  matter,  inorganic  or  or- 
ganic; metabolism,  the  activity  of  organic  matter;  response  to 
stimulus,  the  activity  of  animate  organic  matter;  discipline,  the 
activity  of  type-conforming  conscious  groups — this  is  the  series 
of  natural  phenomena.  Physics  and  chemistry,  biology,  psychol- 
ogy and  anthropology,  sociology — these  are  the  corresponding 
sciences. 

Material  for  the  descriptive  and  historical  study  of  the  evolu- 
tion of  discipline  and  of  the  relations  of  discipline  to  efficiency, 
to  individuation  and  to  survival,  is  abundant,  but  as  a  phenomenon 
of  control,  by  a  type,  of  variation  from  itself,  it  calls  for  quantita- 
tive study  by  the  statistical  method,  since  type  as  it  appears  among 
natural  objects,  including  forms  of  plant  and  animal  life,  as  it 
appears  in  mental  processes  and  in  conduct,  and  as  it  appears  in 
the  groupings  and  the  collective  activities  of  individuals  socially 
organized,  can  always  be  expressed  in  the  statistical  terms  of 
"frequency"  and  "mode."  In  other  words,  a  type  or  norm  can  be 
resolved  into  numerical  elements. 

The  question  may  naturally  and  properly  be  raised,  however, 
whether  numerical  measures  of  social  constraint  would  afford  us 
any  knowledge  that  we  could  not  more  directly  obtain  by  other 
methods  of  inquiry.  The  corresponding  question  was  raised 
when  statistical  methods  were  introduced  in  biology  and  in  psy- 
chology. We  may  confidently  anticipate  that  the  conclusive 
answer  which  trial  and  demonstration  have  afforded  in  those  sci- 
ences will  be  reached  and  accepted  in  sociology  also. 

A  simple  illustration  may  help  to  make  the  point  clear.  The 
temperature  of  the  human  body  in  health  fluctuates  within  narrow 
limits  about  the  normal  of  98.5°  Fahrenheit.  Under  the  physio- 
logical disturbance  of  disease  or  of  shock,  the  range  of  variation 
is  greatly  widened,  and  every  one  acquainted  with  modern  medical 
practice,  in  hospitals  and  elsewhere,  knows  how  closely  the  tem- 
perature curve  is  watched  by  nurses  and  physicians.  In  most 
cases  the  fact  of  illness  or  of  shock  is  known  independently  of 
any  scrutiny  of  the  chart.  But  there  are  instances,  sometimes 
critical  ones,  in  which  the  temperature  fluctuation  affords  the  first 


warning ;  and  in  all  cases  it  affords  the  warning  that  possesses  the 
qualities  of  exactness  and  degree,  and  upon  precisely  these  quali- 
ties the  issues  of  life  and  death  may  turn.  In  other  cases  the 
condition  of  the  system  is  made  known  by  a  blood  test  that  is 
statistical  in  form,  consisting  in  a  count  of  corpuscles  exhibiting 
certain  characteristics;  in  yet  others  by  records  of  heart  action 
and  of  arterial  resistance. 

It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  social  constraint  which  in 
any  given  community  bears  upon  individuals  and  upon  component 
or  constituent  groups  is,  under  ordinary  conditions,  of  a  degree 
and  an  extent  that  may  properly  be  described  as  normal,  and 
that  any  considerable  fluctuation  from  normal,  could  we  measure 
it,  would  immediately  make  known  to  us  the  action  of  disturbing 
forces.  The  value  of  such  knowledge  can  hardly  be  overesti- 
mated. The  question,  how  much  restraint,  how  much  liberty, 
how  much  conformity  to  type,  how  much  variation  from  it,  are 
conducive  to  the  general  welfare,  is  the  supremely  important 
question  in  all  issues  of  public  policy.  The  right  answer  to  it 
turns  upon  the  determination  of  a  previous  question,  namely,  what 
is  normal  social  constraint  in  a  given  community,  at  a  given 
stage  of  its  evolution,  and  what  at  a  given  moment  is  the  actual 
range  of  fluctuation? 

To  obtain,  then,  determinations  of  normal  social  constraint  for 
modern  communities,  including  municipalities,  commonwealths 
and  nations,  and  to  perfect  the  methods  of  measuring  fluctuations 
must,  I  think,  be  regarded  as  an  important  object  of  sociological 
effort  in  the  immediate  future.  That  the  effort  will  be  successful 
is,  I  am  convinced,  a  fairly  safe  prediction. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SOCIAL  THEORY  AND  PUBLIC   POLICY1 

IT  is  an  interesting  circumstance  that  the  makers  of  social 
theory  in  all  generations  have  aimed  to  be  true  counselors  in  the 
sense  contemplated  by  Demosthenes,  who  said  that  to  censure  "is 
easy,  and  in  the  power  of  every  man,"  but  that  the  true  counselor 
"should  point  out  conduct  which  the  present  exigence  demands." 
Like  other  men,  they  have  reacted  to  the  greater  exigencies  of 
their  day.  With  fellow  citizens  they  have  played  their  part  in  the 
collective  struggle  for  existence  and  advantage.  By  one  sort  of 
thinking  or  another,  their  theories  have  been  derived,  at  least 
in  part,  from  observations  or  reflections  upon  large  issues  of 
public  policy,  and  upon  public  policy  they  have  left  an  impression 
by  no  means  insignificant. 

If  their  counsel  has  been  not  always  wise,  not  always  salutary, 
imperfect  knowledge,  more  than  any  defect  of  patriotism,  has 
been  at  fault.  Until  social  theory  became  sociology,  it  was  highly 
a  priori  and  speculative.  A  conclusion  much  desired  for  fortify- 
ing a  policy  predetermined,  more  often  than  not,  was  the  actual 
base  of  intellectual  operations.  Knowing  what  he  ought  to  prove 
for  the  glory  and  safety  of  the  state,  the  pragmatic  political  philos- 
opher discovered  adequate  premises  for  it  as  unerringly  as  any 
soothsayer  to  Cyrus  or  Alexander  found  the  right  flock  of  birds 
to  deliver  a  prognosis  of  promise  for  expeditions  then  afoot. 

It  would  be  rash  to  assume  that  speculative  methods  have  faded 
with  the  nobler  intellects  that  used  them  "into  the  infinite  azure  of 

1This  chapter  was  written  in  1910  and  read  as  the  president's  address 
at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  American  Sociological  Society  at  St.  Louis 
in  December  of  that  year.  It  was  printed  in  the  Proceedings  of  the 
Society  in  1911.  Except  for  one  transposition  of  sentences  for  form's 
sake,  the  elision  of  a  few  redundant  words,  and  the  omission  of  nine 
lines  of  reference  to  peace  propaganda  from  Fox  and  Penn  to  Carnegie, 
it  is  here  reprinted  without  change.  I  take  a  frankly  egotistical  satisfac- 
tion in  having  said  these  things  before  1914  instead  of  after  1920. 

209 


210    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

the  past."  In  an  age  which  is  witnessing,  in  supposedly  educated 
circles,  a  revival  of  every  cult  of  magic  and  demonism  known 
among  men  from  Gadara  to  Salem,  we  cannot  feel  sure  that  any 
absurdity  or  obsession  may  not  again  mask  under  the  austere 
name  of  "science."  But  for  the  time  being,  social  theory  of  the 
speculative  sort  is  discredited.  The  name  "sociology"  was  in- 
vented and  is  used  to  lay  stress  upon  inductive  method.  To  find 
the  facts  first,  to  sort  and  array  them  with  discrimination,  to 
observe  differences,  resemblances,  and  dimensions  closely,  to  gen- 
eralize with  caution,  and  only  then  to  ask  what  suggestions,  if  any, 
the  approximations  to  truth  so  obtained  offer  us  for  guidance  in 
private  and  in  public  conduct,  is  the  only  reputable  procedure 
among  students  of  social,  as  of  physical,  phenomena. 

Of  the  founders  of  sociology  it  may  be  said  that  in  a  pre- 
eminent degree  their  interest  in  practical  affairs  was  deep  and 
continuous  and  directed  upon  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law. 
The  "mint,  anise,  and  cummin"  of  administrative  reform  they 
did  not  despise,  but,  one  and  all,  they  entertained  the  high  am- 
bition to  mould  public  policy.  Comte  wrote  The  Positive  Philos- 
ophy in  part  that  he  might  fashion  The  Positive  Polity.  Spencer 
never  lost  sight  of  his  initial  purpose  to  formulate  the  principles 
of  justice.  Walter  Bagehot,  in  whatever  by-way  of  science  or 
criticism  he  wandered,  did  not  forget  that  his  self-appointed  task 
was  to  increase  and  heighten  in  the  public  life  of  his  age  that  "ani- 
mated moderation"  which  he  held  to  be  the  unique  excellence  of 
English  character. 

We  cannot  doubt  that  these  men,  like  their  forerunners,  were 
tempted  to  lay  philosophical  foundations  in  the  old  manner,  for 
preconceived  political  systems.  That  they  never  dallied  with  the 
temptation  need  not  be  claimed.  But  to  whatever  extent  they 
yielded  to  it,  they  impaired  the  value  of  their  total  achievement. 
Their  fame  rests  upon  so  much  of  their  accumulation  and  classifi- 
cation of  facts  as  was  unprejudiced  and  so  much  of  their  general- 
ization as  was  inductive  in  quality.  If  any  one  of  the  three  did 
not  fully  realize  that  his  contribution  to  thought  would  be  so 
measured,  he  at  least  did  not  fail  to  shape  his  intellectual  life  by 
scientific  standards.  In  mature  years  each  one  frankly  revised  the 
dogmatic  political  creed  of  his  youth  by  the  objective  light  of 


211 

abundant  knowledge.  Comte  began  as  the  fervid  disciple  of  the 
social  revolutionist  Saint  Simon.  He  became  the  prophet  of  a 
progress  as  smoothly  projected  as  a  parabolic  curve.  Spencer's 
hatred  of  aggression  proclaimed  in  Letters  on  the  Proper  Sphere 
of  Government  was  formulated  in  his  earliest  book  in  the  language 
of  finality.  But,  mellowed  by  his  historical  study  of  social  evolu- 
tion, the  author  of  Social  Statics  arrived  at  an  understanding  of 
the  part  that  war  has  played  in  political  integration,  and  a  per- 
ception that  equal  liberty  cannot  be  established  among  men  while 
militarism  survives.  Bagehot,  described  by  the  friend  of  his 
college  days  as  an  intellectually  arrogant  and  supercilious  youth, 
became  the  scientific  man  of  the  world,  the  adviser  of  ministers 
of  state  and  the  one  psychologist  who  has  succeeded  in  explain- 
ing the  mind  of  the  average  Englishman  to  the  average  English 
mind. 

To  recall  these  origins  of  inductive  social  theory  is  to  realize 
that  the  work  remembered  was  not  only  ground-clearing  and 
ground-breaking;  it  was  also  superlatively  constructive. 

Comte  not  only  insisted  that  completeness  of  description  is  a 
requisite  of  method,  he  also,  making  contribution,  demonstrated 
the  successive  mutations  of  the  human  mind.  Going  forth  from 
the  barbaric  feast  of  credulity,  to  be  "long  fed  on  boundless  hope" 
of  metaphysic,  the  race  of  man  must,  in  the  end,  content  itself 
with  the  "simpler  fare"  of  verifiable  knowledge.  In  that  day 
reason  may  qualify  the  passions  which  dogma  has  denounced  and 
damned,  but  never  yet  repressed. 

Spencer's  sociological  theories  were  formulated  as  a  part  of 
his  evolutionist  conception  of  the  world.  That  conception  has 
become  an  integral  part  of  the  mental  equipment  of  every  edu- 
cated man.  Those  writers  who  would  convince  us  that  Spencer  is 
forgotten  are  of  all  philosophers  most  miserable.  They  must 
either  avoid  the  post-Spencerian  problems  or  think  about  them  in 
terms  of  Spencerian  ideas. 

As  Comte  taught  students  of  social  science  to  expend  their 
energies  within  confines  of  the  knowable;  as  Spencer  compelled 
them  to  see  every  process  as  evolution  or  dissolution ;  so  Bagehot, 
examining  more  closely  than  any  predecessor  had  done  the 
strictly  social  phenomenon  of  a  collective  struggle  for  existence, 


212     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

demonstrated  that  fundamentally  sociological  explanation  is 
psychological  interpretation.  Bagehot,  rather  than  Tarde,  was 
the  true  founder  of  the  so-called  psychological  school.  Physics 
and  Politics  is  one  of  those  excessively  rare  books  that  the  critic 
who  has  a  sense  of  moral  responsibility  may  daringly  call  original. 
As  sociology,  the  chapters  on  the  "Preliminary  Age"  and  "Nation 
Making"  forestall  Les  Lois  de  limitation.  As  psychology,  the 
chapter  on  "The  Uses  of  Conflict"  more  than  foreshadows  some 
of  the  generalizations  that  we  associate  with  the  name  of  William 
James.  And  he  would  be  a  remarkable  writer  indeed  who,  desir- 
ing to  set  forth  the  social  interplay  of  instinct,  habit,  and  reason, 
could  put  it  all  so  luminously  as  Bagehot  has  put  it  in  the  chapter 
on  "Government  by  Discussion." 

It  is  a  fair  presumption  that  work  of  such  enduring  influence 
upon  theory  has  not  yet  spent  its  practical  power  in  suggestion. 
It  is  reasonable  to  think  that,  were  we  now  to  re-examine  it,  we 
might  find  it  still  an  unexhausted  fund  of  wisdom,  as  of  correlated 
knowledge.  It  may  afford  us  guidance  today,  not  less  than  it 
did  yesterday,  for  a  rational  criticism  of  public  policy.  To  that 
possibility,  it  may  be  well  to  give  attention. 

The  problems  of  public  policy  do  not  become  simpler  with 
advancing  civilization.  To  speak  for  the  moment  of  our  own 
nation,  the  questions  that  vex  us  are  of  bewildering  variety  and 
complexity:  questions  of  territorial  expansion  and  of  rule  over 
alien  peoples;  questions  arising  out  of  race  conflict  within  our 
older  continental  domain;  questions  of  the  restriction  of  immi- 
gration, of  the  centralization  or  the  distribution  of  administrative 
authority,  of  the  concentration  or  the  diffusion  of  economic  power. 
Well  may  the  skeptic  ask  if  any  science  of  human  relations,  how- 
ever wide  its  generalizations,  can  offer  even  presumptive  answers 
to  questions  so  far-reaching  and  so  diverse.  Yet  every  citizen, 
whether  he  be  instructed  or  ignorant,  is  expected  to  help  answer 
them. 

Before  we  admit  that  the  objection  is  fatal,  let  us  remember 
that  an  overshadowing  question  has  still  to  be  named,  and  that 
when  one  question  overshadows  all  others  the  relative  values  of 
the  others  are  determined.  That  question  .is  the  world-old 


SOCIAL  THEORY  AND  PUBLIC  POLICY  213 

query — older  than  science,  older  than  any  record  of  history — the 
question,  "Is  it  War  or  Peace?" 

After  ten  thousand  years  of  so-called  progress,  is  reason  still 
so  ineffective  against  instinct  that  only  minor  issues  can  be  re- 
moved from  fields  of  battle  to  arenas  of  intellectual  conflict? 
Must  sovereignty — the  ultimate  social  control — forever  prove  and 
declare  itself  in  government  by  slaughter,  or  may  international 
relations  also  be  brought  under  government  by  discussion?  By 
this  "previous  question"  of  world-politics  every  question  of  do- 
mestic politics  is  qualified.  With  war  a  possibility,  the  restriction 
of  immigration  is  one  problem ;  with  war  made  impossible  it  would 
become  an  entirely  different  problem.  A  further  democratizing 
of  the  social  order,  which  might  be  safe  if  world-peace  were 
assured,  may  be  fraught  with  peril  if  the  greater  nations  are 
again  to  challenge  one  another's  right  to  live. 

These  considerations  might  be  dismissed  as  academic  if  it  were 
certain  that  war  will  indefinitely  continue,  or  certain  that  it  will 
not.  Happily  we  do  not  know  that  it  will.  Unhappily  we  do  not 
know  that  it  will  not.  There  are  sincere  and  able  men  who  doubt 
if  the  cessation  of  war  should  be  desired.  They  exalt  its  disci- 
plinary value,  believing  that  the  world  yet  needs  a  measure  of 
sacrifice,  of  daring,  of  endurance  and  of  superiority  to  material- 
istic aims  which  only  war  can  give.  A  larger  number  of  men, 
also  sincere  and  able,  reject  every  defense  of  war  as  invalid,  but 
are  incredulous  when  ways  and  means  of  disarmament  are  pro- 
posed. 

It  is  upon  these  two  interpellations,  namely,  the  desirability  of 
world-peace  and  its  possibility,  that  the  verdict  of  sociology  may 
rightly  be  demanded  and  should  carry  weight.  And  as  a  sort  of 
preliminary  report,  the  conclusions  of  Spencer  and  of  Bagehot 
assuredly  deserve  a  profoundly  respectful  consideration. 

As  all  students  of  Spencer  know,  his  most  important  socio- 
logical generalizations  pertain  to  the  characteristic  differences 
between  what  he  calls  the  militant  and  the  industrial  types  of 
society.  His  theory  of  social  causation  is  stated  mainly  in  terms 
of  war-habit  and  peace-habit.  And,  like  Mr.  Carnegie,  who  was 
his  loyal  friend,  Mr.  Spencer  looked  upon  war  as  the  most  mon- 


2 14     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

strous  of  social  ills,  as  the  most  formidable  obstacle  to  the  com- 
plete evolution  of  man.  Mr.  Bagehot,  on  his  part,  believed  that 
in  government  by  discussion  we  have  an  agency  attained  through 
immeasurable  effort  and  suffering  for  the  inhibition  of  hasty 
action,  for  the  subordination  of  brutal  passion  to  a  reasonable 
expediency,  for  the  final  settlement  of  disputes  by  reason  instead 
of  by  force.  Surely,  then,  we  should  ask  these  scouts  of  inductive 
social  science  whether  in  their  opinion  the  cessation  of  war  at 
the  present  stage  of  social  evolution  is  a  thing  to  be  desired,  and, 
if  it  is,  by  what  policies  the  consummation  may  be  attained. 

Sentiment,  doubtless,  and  the  abhorrence  of  suffering  move 
most  of  those  who  are  participating  in  peace  efforts  now.  Mr. 
Spencer  shared  these  feelings,  but  he  did  not  rest  his  case  against 
militarism  upon  sentiment  alone.  His  faith  was  in  the  im- 
provability  of  man,  the  final  and  superlative  product  of  cosmic 
evolution.  He  saw  that  improvement  involves  adaptation  to  con- 
ditions on  which  life  depends,  and  ever  nicer  adjustments  of 
differing  interests.  He  believed  that  improvement  consists  in  an 
expanding  sympathy  of  man  for  man,  a  continuing  differentiation 
of  powers,  a  better  and  always  better  coordination  of  life-activi- 
ties and  therewith  an  ever-deepening  joy  of  living.  It  has  pro- 
ceeded through  a  social  process.  In  this  process  war  has  played 
a  great  and  recurring  part.  In  breaking  down  the  barriers  that 
separated  primitive  men,  in  bringing  savage  camps  together  into 
tribes,  in  hammering  tribes  together  into  nations,  war  was  inevi- 
table and  it  was  useful.  Nevertheless,  war  achieves  results 
through  frightful  cost  and  waste.  It  is  incompatible  with  those 
more  delicate  processes  of  evolution  which  we  associate,  or  should 
associate,  with  high  civilization.  This  is  a  point  of  such  funda- 
mental importance,  and  the  Spencerian  demonstration  of  it  is  so 
complete  and  so  irrefutable,  that  we  may  well  linger  for  a  mo- 
ment to  note  wherein  the  demonstration  consists. 

Evolution  is  simple  or  compound. 

Simple  evolution  is  swift,  direct  and  business-like.  It  occurs 
whenever  a  group  of  units  of  any  kind,  from  white-hot  iron  to 
the  professors  of  a  faculty,  discharge  energy  promptly  and  with- 
out indirection.  Let  the  heated  iron  be  cooled  with  least  possible 
waste  of  time  and  in  the  most  economical  way.  The  molecules 


SOCIAL  THEORY  AND  PUBLIC  POLICY  215 

will  draw  together.  Integration,  the  initial  process  in  evolution, 
will  quickly  be  completed.  There  will  be  no  secondary,  no  inci- 
dental changes.  Close  crystallization  will  uniformly  characterize 
the  mass.  There  will  be  no  differentiation.  The  product  will  be 
a  bar  of  iron  contracted,  instead  of  expanded ;  nothing  more.  Let 
professors  attend  strictly  to  the  business  of  teaching,  withholding 
no  energy  that  can  freely  be  discharged  upon  the  environing 
student  mind.  Let  there  be  no  day-dreaming  and  no  sauntering, 
no  dallying  with  research  by  the  way,  nor  idle  discussion  of  the 
cosmic,  or  the  social,  order.  As  before,  there  will  be  integration. 
The  units  of  the  mass  will  get  together.  There  will  be  no  disturb- 
ing differences  of  opinion,  no  disquieting  differentiations  of  apti- 
tude or  ability.  The  product  will  be  a  coherent,  standardized, 
teaching  force,  dependable  to  turn  out  standardized  'Masters  of 
Arts  and  intellectually  pasteurized  Doctors  of  Philosophy,  at  a 
minimum  unit  cost. 

Compound  evolution  is  slow,  tortuous,  uncertain,  halting,  and 
unbusiness-like  to  the  last  degree.  Energy,  instead  of  discharg- 
ing itself  in  a  straightforward  way,  goes  maundering  about  in 
crooked  currents  and  incalculable  eddies.  Some  Quixotic  mind 
imagines  that  it  would  be  interesting  to  trifle  with  the  cooling  bar 
of  iron.  He  interferes  with  the  simplicity  of  its  habits,  with  the 
honest  promptitude  of  its  crystallization,  exposing  it  to  charcoal 
fumes,  hammering  it  on  an  anvil,  thrusting  it  now  and  again  into 
boiling  oil,  reheating  it  in  his  forge  and  hammering  it  some  more. 
Very  slowly  its  molecules  draw  together.  They  arrange  them- 
selves in  strange,  fibrous  shapes,  no  two  alike.  Infinitely  minute 
changes  work  their  way  upon  and  through  that  iron  bar.  It 
integrates,  but  it  also  differentiates.  It  becomes  tense,  pliant, 
elastic,  vibrant.  It  sings,  when  you  strike  it,  with  a  clear  full 
note,  and  the  Quixotic  workman,  touching  it  lightly  with  one  last 
tap  of  his  hammer,  no  longer  calls  it  a  bar  of  iron ;  it  has  become 
a  Damascus  blade.  Quixotic  faculties  there  have  been,  teaching 
effectively  but  not  too  much ;  not  incoherent  and  not  anarchistic, 
though  united  by  little  else  than  a  common  interest  in  intellectual 
pursuits  and  a  kindly  thoughtfulness  of  man  for  man.  Their 
energy  has  freely  been  given  to  their  chief  task,  instruction;  but 
some  of  it,  unguarded,  has  escaped  into  by-ways  of  science  or 


216    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

creative  thought.  Exposed  to  the  play  of  many  forces,  not  always 
equal  or  alike,  members  of  such  faculties  have  become  different 
from  one  another.  They  have  become  individuals,  each  with  his 
own  view  of  life  and  its  problems,  each  with  his  own  distinctive 
work  and  record  of  achievement.  Some  of  them  have  become 
absent-minded  and  detached,  some  absorbed  in  researches  which 
neither  colleague  nor  intrusive  tourist  could  fully  comprehend. 
This  compound  evolution  of  the  loosely  integrated  faculty  has, 
therefore,  been  scandalously  irregular,  and  costly  withal.  It  has 
made  the  business  man  thank  God  that  he,  at  least,  is  not  as  these 
professors  are.  And  yet,  because  of  it,  and  by  means  of  it,  and 
chiefly  through  its  very  irregularity  and  freedom,  have  those  dis- 
coveries been  made  which  have  multiplied  the  business  man's 
thousands  and  millions  into  billions  of  ingots  of  good  red  gold. 
Through  and  by  means  of  it  students  have  been  tempered  and 
tested  as  well  as  taught,  and  sent  forth  into  life  to  be  leaders  of 
men.  Above  all,  this  idling  compound  evolution,  seemingly  so 
loose  and  irresponsible,  has  sustained  the  pristine  faith  of  man, 
which  happily  shall  live  when  every  other  faith  is  dead,  the  faith, 
to  wit,  that  the  world  is  still  "full  of  a  number  of  things." 

All  this  is  but  a  way  of  saying  that  growth,  and  the  art  which 
simulates  growth,  are  not  manufacture.  Nature  knows  nothing 
of  standardization.  Within  some  given  range  of  variation  she 
creates  types,  that  is  to  say,  resemblances,  but  no  two  individuals 
are  precisely  alike.  But  growth,  with  its  possibilities  of  correlated 
difference,  of  diversity  in  unity,  requires  freedom  and  takes  time. 
It  can  be  hastened,  but  only  with  some  sacrifice  of  results.  Some 
strength  of  fiber,  some  delicacy  of  adaptation,  is  missed.  Has- 
tened evolution  is  crude  evolution.  Massiveness  of  parts  and 
brutality  of  power  may  be  attained,  but  not  completeness  of  life. 

Now  of  all  ways  of  hastening  social  evolution,  war  is  the  most 
obvious,  the  most  effective,  the  most  absolutely  business-like.  A 
well-organized  and  well-drilled  army  is  the  best  example  of 
standardization  that  we  know.  Conquest  and  a  rigorous  military 
rule  over  conquered  foes  are  the  quickest  way  to  integrate  and 
standardize  vast  populations.  The  product  is  a  militaristic  em- 
pire. It  is  massive  and  imposing.  It  brings  together  the  ma- 
terials from  which  civilization  may  be  evolved,  but  it  is  not  itself 


SOCIAL  THEORY  AND  PUBLIC  POLICY  217 

an  example  of  compound  evolution.  The  notion  that  war  can 
perfect  the  internal  adaptations  of  national  life,  the  finer  adjust- 
ments of  sectional,  racial,  or  class  interests,  has  no  historical 
justification.  Two  concrete  illustrations  will  suffice. 

Writing  of  Bismarck's  inflexible  purpose  to  consolidate  the 
German  empire,  Emile  Ollivier,  minister  to  Napoleon  III,  says: 

The  cause  of  the  Franco-German  conflict  was  one  of  those  artificial 
fatalities  born  of  false  conceptions  and  the  unwholesome  ambitions  of 
statesmen,  which  time  might  wear  out,  transform,  and  often  extinguish. 
.  .  .  But  there  existed  a  man  to  whom  it  imported  much  that  this  factitious 
fatality  should  subsist,  and  should  finally  burst  forth  into  war.  It  was 
this  puissant  genius,  unwilling  to  leave  to  time  the  glory  of  accomplishing 
the  task  of  unification,  the  triumph  of  which  would  have  been  inevitable, 
who  wished  to  make  short  work  of  evolution  and  impose  upon  the  present 
what  the  future  would  have  freely  established,  and  to  keep  for  himself 
the  glory  that  his  successors  might  have  shared.1 

And  M.  Ollivier  might  have  added  that  the  ceaseless  activities 
of  a  generation  of  statesmen  and  writers  had  not  sufficed  to  com- 
plete in  the  hearts  of  the  German  people  that  unification  by  divine 
right  which  was  outwardly  and  politically  established  by  Bis- 
marck's crass  attempt  to  hasten  social  evolution.2 

Can  it  be  said  that  the  attempts  of  our  southern  brethren  to 
solve  by  war,  or  of  the  federal  government  to  solve  by  the  essen- 
tially militaristic  policies  of  reconstruction,  the  terrible  problem 
of  race  interests  were  more  successful?  Can  any  sane  man  ex- 
pect that  the  problem  will  ever  be  solved  in  any  other  way  than 
through  the  infinitely  slow  process  of  a  social  evolution  so  com- 
plex as  to  baffle  analysis  ? 

This,  then,  is  the  evolutionist's  case  against  war.  It  can  hasten 
social  integration,  but  in  the  measure  that  it  succeeds,  it  prevents 
or  postpones  those  finer  and  endlessly  varied  adaptations  which 
require  freedom  and  time,  and  upon  which  completeness  of  life 
depends.  War  has  rudely  assembled  the  factors  of  civilization, 
but  the  possible  recurrence  of  war  menaces  civilization  from  this 
time  forth. 

Can  war  then  be  outlawed  and  generally  prevented?    These 

1  Philosophic  d'une  Guerre,  pp.  342,  343. 

1  Nor  did  the  war  of  1914  complete  it,  as  swift-following  revolution 
proved. 


218    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

terms  are  used  advisedly,  because  no  wrong  has  ever  been  com- 
pletely abolished  by  penalizing  it,  or  by  adopting  resolutions  to 
discountenance  it.  We  do  not,  however,  on  that  account  think  it 
useless  to  penalize  or  to  resolve. 

I  suppose  that  there  is  substantial  agreement  among  economists 
and  historians  that  the  prevailing  causes  of  war  have  been  hunger 
and  greed.  Primitive  men,  made  desperate  by  impending  famine, 
have  pushed  into  productive  regions  already  occupied,  there  to 
contend  for  a  share  of  nature's  bounty.  Modern  men  do  as  savage 
and  barbarian  did,  but  in  ways  so  devious  that  the  actual  process 
is  rarely  seen  or  understood.  Whole  peoples  or  nations  no  longer 
move  en  masse,  but,  like  the  ancient  Aryans  at  springtime,  of 
whom  Festus,  describing  the  ver  sacrum,  tells  us,  they  mitigate  the 
bitter  economic  struggle  by  sending  forth  their  youth  and  maid- 
ens into  distant  parts.  Nations  that  live,  grow.  They  must  work 
more  intensely,  keying  up  the  strings  of  life  to  higher  pitch,  or 
they  must  expand.  Either  way,  the  struggle  for  existence  within 
nations  becomes  a  struggle  for  advantage  among  nations.  Emi- 
grants from  one  may  not  be  welcomed  as  immigrants  by  another. 
Colonization  is  an  intrusion  of  the  strong  upon  the  weak.  An 
acceleration  of  domestic  industry  is  correlated  with  an  expansion 
of  foreign  trade.  With  colonies  and  profit  by  trade,  greed  enters, 
adding  its  insatiable  demands  to  those  of  primal  human  need. 

These  conditions  create  tension  and  provoke  contention.  They 
do  not,  however,  inevitably  produce  war.  The  sociologist  may 
go  far  with  economist  and  historian  in  recognizing  economic 
causes  in  history,  but  he  may  not  lose  sight  of  other  factors, 
which  it  is  peculiarly  the  province  of  his  own  science  to  analyze 
and  appraise. 

These  factors  are  psychological,  and  without  their  cooperation 
war  does  not  begin.  The  passions  of  men  must  be  consolidated. 
Consuming  hatred  or  fierce  exaltation  must  merge  individual 
wills  in  the  collective  fury  of  the  psychologic  crowd.  Even  then 
war  does  not  follow  if  the  fury  merely  bursts.  An  explosion  may 
make  hell  writ  small,  and  war  is  hell  writ  large,  but  there  resem- 
blance ends.  An  explosion  in  the  open  does  no  work,  and  war  is 
systematic  work.  To  make  war,  the  public  fury  must  so  far  be 
controlled  that  it  can  discharge  itself  only  through  the  mechanism 


SOCIAL  THEORY  AND  PUBLIC  POLICY  219 

of  a  military  organization,  in  a  series  of  regulated  explosions, 
directed  upon  a  definite  object,  until  its  infernal  task  is  done. 

Failure  to  remember  this  incontrovertible  fact  has  had  unfor- 
tunate consequences  for  historical  theory  and  for  political  ethics. 
How  does  the  control  of  public  wrath  arise?  In  what  does  it 
consist?  Through  what  agents  or  agencies  does  it  direct  this 
fearful  power,  dissipating  it  in  peace,  or  aggregating  it  for  war? 

Answers  to  these  questions  I  find  in  Bagehot's  chapters  on 
"Nation  Making,"  and  it  is  at  variance  with  those  notions  of  the 
insignificance  of  great  men  in  history  which,  for  twenty  years  or 
more,  have  reigned  unchallenged  in  the  domain  of  historical 
criticism. 

A  nation  is  more  than  a  population.  Millions  of  individuals, 
differing  one  from  another,  compose  it;  yet,  although  not  stand- 
ardized, they  are  alike.  In  ways  not  easy  to  describe,  Englishmen 
are  Englishmen  and  Frenchmen  are  Frenchmen.  Their  resem- 
blances are  not  merely  physical.  Englishmen  are  blue-eyed  and 
dark-eyed,  florid  and  brunette.  Nor  are  they  merely  racial.  The 
Frenchman  may  be  Picard  or  Gascon,  Breton  or  Provengal.  The 
similarities  that  we  note  lie  within  a  well-defined  range  of  mental 
facts.  They  are  not  phenomena  of  instinct,  nor  yet  of  reason. 
If  men  were  creatures  of  instinct  only,  that  is,  if  all  their  activities 
were  narrowly  determined  by  heredity  and  began  at  birth,  there 
would  be  no  distinctions  of  nationality.  Or,  if  we  never  saw 
Englishmen  or  Frenchmen,  nor  heard  them  talk,  and  if  we  knew 
them  only  by  scientific  writings,  we  could  not  easily  tell  them 
apart.  The  resemblances  that  constitute  national  type  or  national 
character  are  tricks  of  expression,  ways  of  doing  things,  prefer- 
ences and  antipathies,  criteria  of  taste,  views  of  life  and  conduct. 
They  were  not  imparted  at  birth ;  they  have  all  been  learned. 
They  cannot  be  discarded  at  will ;  they  are  things  of  habit. 

Now  habits  are  acquired,  we  say,  by  doing  things  or  thinking 
things  many  times  over.  That  is  true,  but  it  is  not  all.  Most  of 
the  repetitions  that  make  up  habit  are  imitations ;  they  are  copies 
of  models  or  examples.  Many  of  our  elemental  and  most  useful 
habits  are  imitations  of  parents ;  but  plainly,  if  we  imitated  parents 
only,  there  would  be  no  national  traits,  and,  in  the  strict  sense  of 
the  word,  no  nations.  There  would  be  only  some  millions  of 


220    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

families,  each  abiding  by  its  own  mental  and  moral  law.  National 
habits,  and  therefore  national  traits  and  character,  are  copies  of 
those  relatively  conspicuous  models  that  are  widely  imitated, 
irrespective  of  kinship;  imitated  locally  at  first,  perhaps,  but  at 
length  throughout  a  population. 

If  so  much  be  granted,  a  further  and  significant  truth  is  granted 
by  implication.  Conspicuous  or  dynamic  men,  who  become  models 
to  thousands  or  millions  of  their  fellows,  are  true  social  causes, 
and  centers  of  social  control.  As  they  think,  the  multitude  thinks ; 
as  they  do,  the  multitude  does,  and  for  the  most  part  uncon- 
sciously, every  man  believing  that  he  thinks  or  acts  spontaneously, 
and  because  it  is  his  nature  to  think  or  to  act  so,  and  not  otherwise. 

Is  not  the  conclusion  obvious?  Men  in  positions  of  authority, 
whether,  as  they  believe,  by  divine  right,  or,  as  others  think,  by 
human  choice,  are  necessarily  conspicuous.  Often  they  are  men 
of  power,  and  whether  they  would  have  it  so  or  not,  their  decisions 
become  to  some  extent  the  popular  decision,  and  their  voice  be- 
comes in  part  the  people's  voice.  Without  dictation  or  argument, 
and  solely  because  their  choice  is  spontaneously  copied  and  their 
course  of  action  is  uncritically  followed  by  multitudes  that  swear 
the  choice  was  theirs,  these  men  control,  and  controlling,  direct, 
the  public  complaisance  and  the  public  wrath.  In  the  final  throw- 
ing of  the  dice  of  fate,  they  are  causes  of  peace  and  war. 

From  this  sober  conclusion  of  inductive  science  I  see  no  escape. 
That  it  is  in  harmony  with  an  unsophisticated  moral  prejudice  is 
not,  I  wish  to  believe,  a  reason  for  distrusting  it.  The  conscience 
of  civilized  mankind  has  never  yet  admitted  that  deliberately  de- 
clared war  has  been  irresponsibly  begun.  Rather  has  it  held,  that 
great  men  in  all  ages,  as  moulders  of  opinion  and  ministers  of 
state,  have  been  moral  agents,  rightly  to  be  branded  with  infamy 
when,  for  their  own  aggrandizement  or  glory,  they  have  drawn 
the  sword. 

One  rule  of  policy  then,  it  would  seem,  may  fairly  be  derived 
from  sociological  theory  for  the  discouragement  of  war.  It  is 
right  and  expedient  to  teach  that  exceptional  men,  and  especially 
all  emperors  and  presidents  and  ministers  of  state,  are  not  puppets 
of  the  Zeitgeist,  but,  in  a  scientific  sense  of  the  word,  are  true 


SOCIAL  THEORY  AND  PUBLIC  POLICY  221 

social  causes,  and,  as  such,  are  morally  responsible  for  the  main- 
tenance of  peace. 

Beyond  policies  to  restrain  the  makers  of  war,  are  there  policies 
which  might  render  the  making  of  war  more  difficult? 

The  conditions  preventive  or  inhibitive  of  war  have  been  three, 
namely :  isolation,  the  inclusion  of  minor  states  within  confedera- 
tions or  imperial  systems,  and  the  so-called  balance  of  power. 

In  the  past  mere  inaccessibility  of  territory  has  assured  the 
relatively  peaceful  development  of  many  peoples,  among  whom 
some  have  made  priceless  contributions  to  civilization.  There 
are  no  inaccessible  nations  now.  Political  integration  has  con- 
tinually widened  the  areas  within  which  domestic  peace  prevails, 
and  the  work  is  so  far  done  that  no  important  lands  or  peoples 
remain  to  be  appropriated.  Further  integration  will  be  redistribu- 
tive  only.  There  remains  the  balance  of  power,  as  the  one  im- 
portant objective  condition  upon  which  the  maintenance  of  peace 
will  largely  depend. 

I  am  using  the  term  in  a  general  or  descriptive,  not  a  technical 
or  diplomatic,  sense.  I  mean  by  it  political  forces  in  approximate 
equilibrium  throughout  the  world.  In  this  sense  the  balance  of 
power  is  a  sociological  phenomenon  of  peculiar  interest,  for  two 
reasons. 

First,  it  is  interesting  because  of  its  nature  or  composition. 
It  is  a  distribution  of  forces  roughly  in  accordance  with  what  the 
mathematician  calls  "chance  occurrence."  If  as  many  as  a  thou- 
sand shots  are  fired  at  a  target,  those  that  miss  the  bull's-eye  are 
distributed  about  it  with  curious  regularity.  Of  those  that  miss 
it  by  three  inches,  about  as  many  will  hit  above  as  below,  about  as 
many  to  the  left  as  to  the  right.  Of  those  that  miss  it  by  six 
inches,  about  as  many  will  hit  right  as  left,  about  as  many  below 
as  above.  In  like  manner  a  balance  of  power  is  a  symmetrical 
distribution  of  forces  about  a  central  point.  An  international 
balance  of  power  exists  when,  with  reference  to  any  interest  or 
question  upon  which  states  may  differ,  as  many  strong  powers 
range  themselves  on  one  side  as  on  the  other,  and  the  weak  ones 
are  symmetrically  distributed  with  reference  to  the  strong  ones. 

Does  this  bit  of  exposition  seem  too  elementary  or  too  academic 
to  bring  into  a  discussion  of  world-peace  ?  Let  me  then  ask  if  a 


222     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

corollary  from  the  principle  stated  may  be  taken  for  granted? 
The  probability  of  a  symmetrical  distribution  of  shots  or  of  forces 
about  a  central  point  increases  with  their  number.  Fifty  shots 
about  a  bull's-eye  would  not  be  so  regularly  distributed  as  a  thou- 
sand. A  million  shots  would  make  a  nearly  circular  pattern.  If, 
then,  an  International  Court  of  Arbitral  Justice  should  be  estab- 
lished at  The  Hague,  or  elsewhere,  would  the  chances  that  the 
political  forces  represented  there  would  remain  in  approximate 
balance  be  increased,  if,  meanwhile,  a  number  of  the  now  inde- 
pendent small  states  of  Europe  and  the  East  should  be  absorbed 
in  one  or  more  of  the  great  imperial  systems  ?  Or  need  we  fear 
that  the  chances  of  equilibrium  would  be  diminished  if  one  or 
two  of  the  more  heterogeneous  imperial  systems  should  some  day 
be  resolved  into  independent  states,  each  relatively  homogeneous 
and  individual? 

The  balance  of  power  is  of  interest,  secondly,  because  it  is 
correlated  with  government  by  discussion.  Bagehot's  chapter  on 
this  subject  deals  chiefly  with  the  nature  of  such  government 
and  its  consequences.  Like  compound  evolution,  government 
by  discussion  is  a  slow,  irregular,  and  unbusiness-like  procedure : 
and  therein  lies  its  value.  It  inhibits  ill-considered  action.  It 
gives  passion  time  to  cool,  it  makes  for  moderation  and  for 
poise.  Bagehot  does,  however,  ask  how  government  by  discus- 
sion arises.  His  answer  is,  on  the  whole,  the  least  satisfactory 
part  of  his  book,  but  it  is  essentially  correct.  Government  by 
discussion  arose,  he  says,  in  those  nations  that  had  a  polity,  that 
is  to  say,  a  constitution.  Greeks  and  Germans  had  what  Aris- 
totle calls  the  mixed  government.  King,  aristocracy,  and  free- 
men participated  in  it.  Here,  then,  were  distinct  political  forces 
in  balance,  and  because  they  were  in  balance  they  had  to  talk 
before  they  could  act. 

Our  modern  account  of  reason  and  its  relations  to  instinct 
enables  us  to  generalize  Mr.  Bagehot's  guess  and  to  verify  it. 
Government  by  discussion  depends  upon  a  balance  of  power  and 
necessarily  proceeds  from  it.  It  is  a  social  expansion  of  the 
reasoning  processes  of  the  individual  mind. 

Reasoning  begins  when  instinct  fails  or  is  inhibited.  As  long 
as  we  can  confidently  act,  we  do  not  argue,  but  when  we  face 


SOCIAL  THEORY  AND  PUBLIC  POLICY  223 

conditions  abounding  in  uncertainty  or  when  we  are  confronted 
by  alternative  possibilities,  we  first  hesitate,  then  feel  our  way, 
then  guess,  and  at  length  venture  to  reason.  Reasoning,  ac- 
cordingly, is  that  action  of  the  mind  to  which  we  resort  when 
the  possibilities  before  us  and  about  us  are  distributed  substan- 
tially according  to  the  law  of  chance  occurrence,  or,  as  the  mathe- 
matician would  say,  in  accordance  with  "the  normal  curve"  of 
random  frequency.  The  moment  the  curve  is  obviously  skewed, 
we  decide.  If  it  is  obviously  skewed  from  the  beginning,  by  bias, 
or  interest,  by  prejudice,  authority,  or  coercion,  our  reasoning 
is  futile  or  imperfect.  So,  in  the  state,  if  any  interest  or  coalition 
of  interests  is  dominant  and  can  act  promptly,  it  rules  by  ab- 
solutist methods.  Whether  it  is  benevolent  or  cruel,  it  wastes 
neither  time  nor  resources  upon  government  by  discussion.  But 
if  interests  are  innumerable,  and  so  distributed  as  to  offset 
one  another,  and  if  no  great  bias  or  overweighting  anywhere  ap- 
pears, government  by  discussion  inevitably  arises.  The  interests 
can  get  together  only  if  they  talk.  So,  too,  in  international  rela- 
tions. If  in  coming  years  these  shall  be  adjusted  by  reason  instead 
of  by  force,  by  arbitration  instead  of  by  war,  it  will  be  because 
a  true  balance  of  power  has  been  attained.  If  any  one  power  or 
coalition  of  powers  shall  be  able  to  dictate,  it  will  also  rule. 
By  what  policies  can  an  equilibrium  of  international  power 
be  established?  I  shall  name  only  those  that  the  foregoing  con- 
siderations suggest,  and  not  attempt  to  describe  or  to  analyze 
them.  They  must  of  course  be  policies  that  will  tend  both  to 
differentiate  interests  and  to  disintegrate  coalitions  of  power 
that  create  an  overwhelming  preponderance  of  strength.  The 
great  superiorities  that  now  preclude  effective  government  by 
discussion  throughout  the  world  are,  (i)  technical  proficiency 
based  on  scientific  knowledge,  and  (2)  concentrated  economic 
power.  If  we  sincerely  wish  for  peace,  we  must  be  willing  to 
see  a  vast  equalizing  of  industrial  efficiency  between  the  East 
and  the  West.  We  must  also  welcome  every  change  that  tends 
to  bring  about  a  fairer  apportionment  of  natural  resources  among 
nations  and  within  them,  and  a  more  equal  distribution  of  wealth. 
If  these  conditions  can  be  met,  there  may  one  day  be  a  Parlia- 
ment of  Man. 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS 

THEOPHRASTUS  SUCH  was  of  the  opinion  that  one  teaches  "a 
blinding  superstition"  who  teaches  "that  a  theory  of  human  well- 
being  can  be  constructed  in  disregard  of  the  influences  that  have 
made  us  human."  Being  of  one  mind  with  George  Eliot's  modern 
ancient  on  this  point,  I  have  considered  at  length  in  these  chap- 
ters, the  influences  that  have  made  us  human.  Incidentally,  I  have 
been  at  pains  to  make  clear  what  it  is  to  be  made  human,  discrim- 
inating between  heredity  and  heritage,  and  explaining  how,  when 
mutation  and  selection  have  brought  forth  the  reflective  (or 
reasoning)  intelligence,  experience  instructs  and  disciplines  it,  and 
equips  it  with  culture.  In  particular,  I  have  tried  to  prove  that 
to  be  made  human  is  to  be  "individualized"  until,  attaining  "per- 
sonality," we  become  persons.  Now  I  wish,  and  think  it  de- 
sirable, to  examine  more  closely  certain  conditions,  named  in 
Chapter  VII,  which  "practical"  experimenters  in  social  control 
and  in  public  policy  ("uplifters"  and  professional  reformers 
above  all)  often  neglect  and  sometimes  openly  contemn. 

Of  course  the  subject  is  not  new.  No  humanistic  problem  is. 
That  is  why  I  introduced  it  with  my  quotation  from  the  modern 
ancient.  If  inductive  science  has  new  truth  to  contribute  to  the 
inherited  stock  of  humanist  wisdom,  it  is  because  we  are  in  a  posi- 
tion to  study  more  minutely  than  was  possible  in  earlier  days,  the 
forces  and  conditions  that  have  made  and  formed  us.  We  shall  find 
them  to  be  not  altogether  different  in  kind  from  those  that  were 
recognized  by  Plato,  Aristotle,  and  Zeno.  In  fact,  the  Greek  con- 
ceptions were  truer  than  some  later  ones.  Most  of  the  social 
theories  that  have  been  constructed  since  the  Protestant  Ref- 
ormation have  dealt  directly  with  the  individual,  and  have  at- 
tempted to  work  from  the  individual  to  society.  In  this  they  have 
been  not  altogether  wrong.  Centuries  of  suppression  of  in- 
dividuality by  Church  and  State  had  obscured  one-half  of  po- 

224 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  225 

litical  truth.  Men  needed  to  be  reminded  that  the  individual, 
when  he  has  come  into  existence,  has  a  value  in  and  for  himself, 
and  must  be  counted  as  a  force  reacting  on  society.  But  as  far 
as  theories  have  assumed  the  individual  as  an  independent  start- 
ing-point of  social  and  moral  phenomena,  they  have  been  untrue. 

The  Greeks  never  failed  to  see  that  rational  living  is  a  product 
of  social  conditions.  To  the  Greek,  says  Butcher,  "  'The  man 
versus  the  state'  was  a  phrase  unknown;  the  man  was  complete 
in  the  state;  apart  from  it  he  was  not  only  incomplete,  he  had 
no  rational  existence.  Only  through  the  social  organism  could 
each  part,  by  adaptation  to  the  others,  develop  its  inherent  pow- 
ers." 1  Nevertheless,  this  doctrine  of  the  creation  of  man  by 
society  was  by  no  means  completely  thought  out  in  the  minds  of 
the  writers  who  first  formulated  it,  and  those  who  last  concerned 
themselves  about  it  left  much  to  be  added  by  the  students  of  a  later 
time.  Aristotle's  comparative  study  of  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
eight  different  communities,  which  enabled  him  first  among 
scientific  investigators  to  show  in  detail  how  and  why  the  good 
life  can  have  existence  only  in  the  organized  state,  was  a  theo- 
retical no  less  than  a  practical  advance  beyond  the  speculative 
insight  of  Plato.  So,  our  modern  study  of  social  progress  is 
an  advance,  both  theoretical  and  practical,  beyond  the  work  of 
Plato  and  Aristotle,  and  beyond  the  philosophy  of  man  as  it 
stood  when  post-Kantian  idealism  had  achieved  its  task  of  re- 
viving Hellenic  moods  of  thought. 

This  assertion  perhaps  demands  a  word  of  explanation.  They 
misapprehend  the  work  of  science  who  think  of  it  as  incompatible 
with  philosophy,  and  suppose  that  one  must  choose  between 
them.  It  may  be  that  inductive  science  can  discover  few  great 
truths  of  which  at  least  glimmerings  were  not  seen  in  Greece. 
The  doctrine  of  evolution  is  in  that  sense  not  new.  But 
the  mission  of  science  is  a  patient  conversion  of  insight  into 
sight;  of  dialectic  into  knowledge.  Our  advantage  is  not  in  a 
conviction  more  sure  than  Aristotle  held,  that  he  who  can  live 
without  society  must  be  either  a  beast  or  a  god ;  it  is  in  a  minute 
and  relatively  precise  knowledge  of  those  slow  but  certain  proc- 
esses of  biological  and  social  change  by  which  the  transformation 

*Some  Aspects  of  the  Greek  Genius,  p.  51. 


226     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

of  brutality  into  humanity  is  effected.  And  we  cannot  afford  to 
despise  this  better  knowledge,  as  but  a  tedious  elaboration  of 
ideas  long  since  familiar  and  accepted.  It  is  itself  a  new  factor  in 
the  social  process.  In  the  game  of  chess  with  the  unseen  an- 
tagonist of  Mr.  Huxley's  picture,  it  enables  man  to  play  with 
the  cool  and  calculating  joy  of  one  who  knows  the  meaning  and 
the  end  of  every  move;  knows,  too,  that  on  the  other  side  the 
play,  though  real  and  relentless,  is  fair. 

Therefore,  chief  among  the  relations  of  cause  and  effect  in 
the  process  that  has  made  us  human,  is  one  that  brings  together, 
in  a  complete  truth,  the  partial  explanations  that  we  owe  to 
Athens,  with  other  explanations,  no  less  partial,  that  have  been 
worked  out  in  our  own  day.  Mutations  creative  of  intelligence 
and  character  on  the  one  hand,  natural  selection  and  social  pres- 
sure on  the  other, — these  influences  together  have  created 
human  faculty.  There  came  a  time  in  the  struggle  for  existence, 
as  Wallace  and  Darwin  both  saw,  when  mental  resource  counted 
for  more  than  physical  strength.  Anthropoid  apes  and  simian 
men,  we  have  reason  to  suppose,  found  safety  and  advantage  in 
the  pack  that  used  wits.  The  intelligence  that  association  from 
the  first  selected  and  disciplined  has  never  ceased  to  depend 
on  association  for  perpetuation.  Deprived  of  comradeship  by 
circumstance  or  law,  men  go  back  to  the  brutality  from  which 
they  came.  Wilfully  rejecting  companionship,  they  learn,  with 
Manfred,  that  man  is  not  yet  qualified  to  act  the  part  of  God : 

.  .  .  "There  is  an  order 
Of  mortals  on  the  earth,  who  do  become 
Old  in  their  youth,  and  die  ere  middle  age, 
Without   the   violence   of   warlike   death." 

Therefore  it  has  been  the  humans  best  equipped  with  social 
habit  and  its  products  that  have  won  and  maintained  supremacy 
in  the  contention  with  physical  nature  and  living  enemies.  So- 
ciety is  a  means  to  a  definite  end, — namely,  the  survival  and 
improvement  of  men  through  a  continuing  selection  of  intelligence 
and  sympathy.  There  can  be  no  sociology  worthy  of  the  name 
which  is  not  essentially  an  elaboration  of  this  central  principle.  The 
notion  that  society  is  an  end  in  itself  is  an  unthinkable  proposition. 
At  the  same  time,  the  intelligence  and  the  fraternity  that  asso- 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  227 

ciation  selects  react  in  their  turn  on  society,  making  it  better 
as  a  working  organization,  and  as  a  medium  of  individual  life. 
So  the  interpretation  of  man  as  "human,"  and  the  interpreta- 
tion of  society  as  an  ever-changing  plexus  of  relationships,  must 
proceed  together. 

It  is  not  enough,  however,  to  know  with  the  philosophers  of 
Greece  that  without  society  and  social  duty  there  can  be  no  true 
individual  life.  They  well  understood  the  problems  of  social 
order  and  the  nature  of  personal  worthiness.  They  knew  that 
excellence  is  a  fact  of  organization :  Plato's  demonstration  that 
justice  in  the  state  and  goodness  in  the  individual  life  are  neither 
more  nor  less  than  the  correlated  play  of  mutually  dependent 
and  mutually  limiting  activities,  in  proportions  harmonious  with 
one  another,  and  in  subordination  to  the  unity  of  the  whole,  has 
not  been  surpassed,  in  ethical  analysis.  They  were  familiar,  too, 
with  a  thousand  aspects  of  social  and  of  individual  change.  But 
they  did  not  combine  these  elements  into  a  synthetic  conception. 
They  were  unable  to  unite  the  static  with  the  kinetic  factors  of 
their  problem,  and  so  to  arrive  at  the  peculiarly  modern  notion 
of  a  moving  equilibrium.  Therefore  they  failed  to  achieve  an 
entirely  true  and  sufficient  philosophy  of  either  man  or  the  state. 
For  life  is  not  the  whirl  of  a  constant  number  of  jugglers'  plates, 
balanced  on  the  sword-points  of  the  players :  it  is  a  whirl  in 
which  new  plates  and  new  motions  appear  at  every  instant,  com- 
pelling delicate  readjustments  throughout  the  system,  and  yet 
without  seriously  disturbing  the  approximately  perfect  balance 
of  the  whole.  The  large  and  difficult  conception,  then,  to  which 
we  must  attain  is  that  of  a  world,  in  which  there  can  be  no  true 
humanistic  phenomena  except  through  a  process,  at  once  pro- 
gressive and  orderly,  of  mutual  modifications  and  adaptations  of 
man  and  society  by  each  other,  in  which  each  acquires,  stage  by 
stage,  a  more  delicate  complexity  of  organization.  Of  the  many 
implications  of  this  conception  we  shall  now  examine  some  of 
the  more  important. 

In  philosophy  of  every  school  the  term  personality  stands  for 
the  highest  product  of  evolution.  True  personality  is  a  unified, 
self-conscious  mental  life,  harmonious  within  itself,  capable  of  ex- 


228    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

pansion,  and  sympathetic  with  surrounding  life  because  real- 
izing and  comprehending  in  itself  the  possibilities  of  life.  It  is 
the  type  at  once  of  the  concrete  and  the  universal.  One  who 
understands  this  will  not  make  the  mistake  of  believing,  on  the 
one  hand,  that  utility  is  the  fundamental  word  of  ethics,  or,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  ethics  can  be  complete  without  including 
utilitarianism.  The  fundamental  words  in  ethics  (there  are  two 
of  them)  are  integrity  (unity,  wholeness)  and  spontaneity.  There 
can  be  no  utility  apart  from  a  consciousness  capable  of  wants  and 
satisfactions,  and  apart  from  unity  and  aliveness  there  can 
be  no  such  consciousness.  Therefore  if  integrity  and  alive- 
ness  come  into  direct  conflict  with  utility  it  is  utility  that  must 
for  the  moment  give  way.  Nevertheless,  because  there  can  be 
no  continuing  life  without  reactions  of  utility,  ethics  must 
expand  into  utilitarianism,  and  must  work  out  the  laws  of  a 
cumulative  happiness  which  is  the  reward  and  the  confirmation 
of  well-doing. 

If  now  we  put  this  conception  of  personality  side  by  side 
with  our  view  of  intelligence  as  selected  and  disciplined  under 
social  conditions,  is  it  not  evident  that  personality  in  this  sense 
comes  into  being  only  in  the  relatively  advanced  society,  which 
has  passed  beyond  the  limitations  of  tribal  existence,  and  even 
of  a  narrow  nationalism,  into  a  sympathetic  relation  to  mankind 
in  all  its  varied  phases  of  development?  If  so,  it  is  a  prod- 
uct of  progressive  as  distinguished  from  both  stationary  and 
anarchistic,  or  disintegrating,  society,  and  the  theory  of  per- 
sonality can  be  worked  out  only  in  terms  of  a  theory  of  social 
evolution. 

In  detail  this  means  that  a  society  in  which  the  highest  type 
of  mind  can  appear  is  one  that  has  had,  first,  such  a  vigorous 
ethnic  or  national  existence,  and  second,  such  varied  contact 
with  surrounding  peoples,  that  it  has  become  plastic  without 
losing  its  distinctive  character.  In  the  nomenclature  of  evo- 
lution, it  has  acquired  internal  mobility  without  losing  cohesion. 
By  mutation  a  variable  but  not  unstable  physical  nature  has 
been  produced.  By  numberless  comparisons  of  one  mode  of 
civilization  with  another,  a  mental  temper  at  once  critical  and 
catholic  has  been  created.  Prosperity  and  an  increasing  popula- 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  229 

tion  have  brought  the  young  and  enterprising  to  the  front  in  the 
conduct  of  affairs.  Selection  has  weeded  out  those  who  could 
neither  learn  nor  forget.  Force  and  authority  in  the  social  organ- 
ization have  so  far  given  way  to  spontaneous  initiative  that  the 
individual  can  find  scope  for  the  development  of  his  latent  pow- 
ers, but  not  so  far  as  to  permit  disintegration.  Contact  and 
mental  intercourse  being  the  conditions  of  progress,  its  phases 
are  an  increase  of  material  well-being,  an  inclusive  sympathy, 
a  catholic  rationality,  and  a  flexible  social  constitution,  adapting 
itself  readily  to  changing  conditions,  yet  of  enduring  strength. 
And  since  the  conservation  of  energy  is  a  fact  of  social  as  of 
physical  phenomena,  the  cause  of  progress,  beneath  all  conditions 
and  phases,  is  a  conversion  of  lower — that  is,  more  simple,  imper- 
fectly organized — modes  of  energy  into  higher.  Economic  ac- 
tivities transform  the  energies  of  physical  nature  into  social  en- 
ergies, of  which  there  is  no  other  source,  since  artistic,  religious, 
educational,  and  political  activities  are  but  a  further  transforma- 
tion of  the  results  of  economic  effort.  In  the  medium  of  all  these 
activities  is  moulded  their  final  product,  the  human  person,  who 
could  come  into  being  in  no  other  way  and  under  no  other  circum- 
stances. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  sociological  facts  that  underlie  human- 
istic problems.  It  is  interesting  to  reflect  that  in  a  vague  way  the 
big  truth  which  they  contain,  that  without  social  progress  there 
can  be  no  development  of  man  has  always  been  present  in  popular 
consciousness.  The  experiences  of  individual  life,  of  course, 
afford  a  basis  for  it,  since  the  years  from  childhood  to  maturity 
are  normally  a  period  of  increasing  personal  power,  in  which 
every  ambitious  man  believes  that  he  was  born  to  accomplish 
a  desirable  transformation  of  the  community.  But  social  ex- 
periences in  the  mass  have  built  the  superstructure.  Faith  in 
ongoing  and  in  a  better  state  of  things  has  been  an  element  in 
every  religious  belief. 

What  has  been  the  genesis  of  the  conviction?  Everywhere 
social  advance  has  been  brought  about  through  successive  waves 
of  conquest.  Naturally  enough,  in  the  minds  of  the  conquerors 
the  good  or  the  right  order  has  been  identified  with  the  new 
order  of  things  which  they  have  undertaken  to  establish.  The 


23o    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

evil  order  has  been  the  old  way  of  life  that  was  followed  by  the 
subjugated  enemies  who  are  now  reduced  to  serfdom.  Good 
spirits  are  those  who  favor  the  plans  of  the  enterprising  and 
successful,  in  whose  control  are  the  shaping  of  public  policy  and 
the  dictation  of  orthodox  belief.  It  is  true  that  orthodoxy  is 
no  sooner  born  than  it  turns  conservative  and  seeks  to  main- 
tain itself  against  further  change.  But  the  effort  is  vain.  An- 
other conquest,  or  a  new  generation,  brings  forward  new  men 
and  new  issues,  and  a  new  orthodoxy  always  stands  ready  to 
crowd  the  old  to  the  wall.  The  conquered  and  oppressed  also, 
on  their  part,  have  a  doctrine  of  progress.  It  is  belief  in  a 
future  in  which  justice  shall  be  done;  when  they  shall  be  de- 
livered from  their  captivity  and  in  their  turn  put  their  enemies 
under  foot.  In  time  a  closer  intercourse  and  a  finer  feeling  soften 
and  blend  these  conflicting  faiths  into  a  belief  in  the  ultimate 
happiness  and  perfection  of  all  classes. 

Crude  and  even  visionary  as  it  may  be,  perennial  faith  in 
progress  is  humanistic  motive  power.  Science  must  rectify  it 
at  a  thousand  points,  but  the  first  word  of  a  scientific  humanism 
must  be  an  unequivocal  declaration  that  such  faith  in  se  is  the  be- 
ginning of  achievement.  The  first  law  of  life  is  a  law  of  motion. 
In  society,  as  on  the  street,  the  preliminary  duty  is  to  "move  on." 
The  nation  that  has  no  further  reconstructions  to  effect,  no  new 
ideals  to  realize  in  practice,  has  completed  its  work  and  will 
disappear  before  the  warfare  or  the  migrations  of  more  earnest 
men.  But  the  moving  on  must  be  developmental ;  mere  change 
is  not  evolution,  but  confusion ;  and  the  nature  and  limitations  of 
an  evolutionary  process,  imperfectly  recognized  as  yet  in  scientific 
discussion,  are  practically  unknown  to  popular  thought.  It  is 
here,  then,  that  the  rectifying  work  of  science  must  begin. 

Human  society  is  not  a  something-for-nothing  endowment 
order.  The  vision  of  a  completed  society,  lacking  neither  material 
comfort  nor  any  excellence,  in  which  foolishness,  want,  and  suf- 
fering could  linger  only  as  dim  memories  of  an  imperfect  past,  has 
had  a  strangely  persistent  fascination  for  speculative  minds  in 
every  age.  Common  sense  has  never  accepted  the  dream  for 
reality;  for  common  sense  is  a  skeptic  from  the  beginning. 
Philosophy  has  doubted  if  evil  be  not  inherent  in  the  nature  of 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  231 

the  world,  and  therefore  ineradicable.  But  doubt  and  skep- 
ticism have  fallen  short  of  reasoned  demonstration  from  experi- 
ence that  the  vision  is  inherently  absurd.  Yet  the  elements  of 
demonstration  are  simple  enough.  The  available  energy  of  so- 
ciety at  any  given  moment  is  limited  in  amount.  The  total  can 
be  increased  only  by  parting  with  some,  in  the  thought  and  labor 
by  which  larger  stores  of  physical  energy,  contained  in  the  natural 
resources  of  the  environment,  are  set  free  and  converted  to  human 
use.  All  progress,  therefore,  is  conditioned  by  cost,  and  if  the  law 
of  conservation  holds  good  in  these  matters,  as  we  have  assumed 
that  it  does,  the  cost  will  increase  with  the  progress;  not,  how- 
ever, necessarily  in  the  same  ratio  as  the  gain,  since  riper  knowl- 
edge should  enable  us  to  get  more  from  physical  nature  with 
a  given  expenditure  of  human  effort.  In  this  simple  form  the 
limitations  of  progress  present  an  economic  problem,  and  need 
not  detain  us  at  the  present  time.  However,  inasmuch  as  society 
is  organic  and  behavioristic  the  cost  of  progress  takes  on  com- 
plications, out  of  which  grow  practical  problems  that  are  both 
grave  and  difficult.  As  appeared  in  the  illustration  of  the  moving 
equilibrium,  society,  as  an  aggregate  that  is  simultaneously  los- 
ing and  absorbing  motion,  experiences  an  incessant  rearrange- 
ment of  its  parts.  This  means  two  very  important  things: 
First,  there  can  be  no  social  gain  that  does  not  entail  some- 
where, on  the  whole  community  or  on  a  class,  the  break-up  of 
long-established  relations,  interests,  and  occupations,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  a  more  or  less  difficult  readjustment.  Second,  the  in- 
crease of  social  activity,  which  is  the  only  phase  of  progress 
that  most  people  ever  see  at  all,  may  so  exceed  the  rate  of  con- 
structive readjustment  that  the  end  is  disorganization  and  ruin. 
For  the  further  examination  of  these  propositions  let  us 
translate  them  from  physical  terms  into  the  language  of  feel- 
ing. The  destruction  of  familiar  relations  and  the  necessity  of 
establishing  new  ones  are  known  immediately  in  consciousness 
in  terms  of  hardship  or  suffering;  and  disorganization  of  social 
or  individual  life  involves  the  pain  of  retrogression.  The  limita- 
tions of  progress,  then,  are  these  r  First,  there  can  be  no  social 
progress,  and  therefore  no  development  of  personality,  except 
at  the  price  of  an  absolute,  but  not  necessarily  a  relative,  in- 


232     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

crease  of  suffering.  Second,  if  the  increase  of  social  activity, 
which  is  one  phase  of  progress,  becomes  disproportionate  to  the 
constructive  reorganization  of  social  relationships,  which  is  the 
complementary  phase,  the  increase  of  suffering  will  become  degen- 
eration. 

These  limitations  are  not  a  cheering  aspect  of  progress,  but  their 
reality  is  established  in  historical  and  in  statistical  fact,  and  they 
sharply  define  our  obligations.  The  first  of  these  sobering  propo- 
sitions has  to  be  made  a  shade  darker  still.  The  suffering  that 
progress  costs  is  borne  for  the  most  part  vicariously.  The  classes 
that  are  displaced,  whose  interests  and  occupations  are  broken  up 
by  the  relentless  course  of  change,  are  not  the  ones  who  secure 
the  joys  of  richer  and  ampler  life.  That  which  enormously 
benefits  mankind  is  too  often  the  irretrievable  ruin  of  the  few. 
For  illustration,  one  need  not  be  confined  to  the  familiar  facts  of 
the  wasting  of  barbarian  peoples  before  the  advance  of  civiliza- 
tion, or  the  sacrifice  of  life  in  national  self-defence.  The  history 
of  industrial  advance  affords  examples  quite  as  striking,  and  more 
significant,  since  they  show  that  after  society  has  settled  down  to 
the  quiet  occupations  of  peace  the  fundamental  conditions  of  its 
development  remain  unchanged.  In  reviewing  them  the  sociolo- 
gist expects  to  find  that  the  minority  which  suffers  the  pains  of 
progress  is  composed  mainly  of  the  most  unprogressive  elements 
of  the  population,  and  he  is  not  disappointed.  But  he  finds  evi- 
dences also  that  to  some  extent  the  sufferers  are  recruited  by 
victims  of  pure  misfortune,  whose  undoing  has  been  caused 
neither  by  their  nature  nor  by  their  conduct. 

When  in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  the  growth 
of  towns,  money  payments,  and  the  commutation  of  week  work 
loosened  the  bonds  of  custom  and  law  that  had  held  the  serf  to  the 
manor,  the  entire  commonwealth  of  England  experienced  an  eco- 
nomic prosperity  never  before  known.  Population  and  wealth 
increased,  and  the  free  tenants,  as  a  class,  rose  steadily  in  social 
position.  They  could  cultivate  more  or  less  land,  or  engage  in 
trade  and  obtain  municipal  charters.  But  the  economic  equality 
of  an  earlier  day  had  disappeared.  The  growth  of  population 
brought  men  into  the  world  for  whom  there  were  places  enough, 
and  more  than  enough,  but  not  places  already  allotted  to  them  in 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  233 

the  social  order.  They  were  places  that  had  to  be  discovered  by 
intelligence  and  enterprise,  qualities  that  are  not  possessed  by  all 
men  equally.  The  full  virgate  of  land  was  no  longer  secured  by 
customary  law  to  each  family.  Since  the  energetic  and  strong 
could  control  more,  the  easy-going  and  weak  had  to  get  on  with 
less.  In  the  towns  the  far-seeing  and  forehanded  quickly  monop- 
olized trade  and  the  more  profitable  crafts.  And  so,  while  this 
comparative  freedom  of  enterprise  stimulated  activity  in  a  hun- 
dred ways  that  made  England  as  a  nation  richer  and  stronger,  it 
destroyed  the  old  economic  footing  of  the  less  competent  members 
of  society,  and  left  them  to  struggle  on,  thenceforth,  as  a  wage- 
earning  class. 

Two  hundred  years  later,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  society  was 
again  transformed  by  the  results  of  geographical  discovery.  Free 
capital  and  foreign  commerce  quickened  industry  and  thought  into 
intense  and  brilliant  life.  "It  was  indeed  a  stirring  time,"  writes 
Hyndman,  obliged  to  admit  that  this  period,  which  he  calls  the 
iron  age  of  the  peasantry  and  wage  classes,  was,  nevertheless,  one 
of  progress  in  other  respects.  "A  new  world  was  being  discov- 
ered in  art  and  in  science  in  Europe  as  well  as  in  actual  existence 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic.  .  .  .  Never  before  had  so  great 
an  impulse  been  given  to  human  enterprise  and  human  imagina- 
tion." 1  But  the  splendor  had  its  price,  which  socialists  like  Hynd- 
man have  superficially  described  and  but  imperfectly  understood. 

Political  integration  had  been  going  on.  The  struggle  of  con- 
tending factions  had  been  costly,  and  the  reestablished  national 
life,  with  its  manifold  activities,  was  more  costly.  Barons  dis- 
charged the  bands  of  retainers  that  were  no  longer  needed  in  civil 
strife.  To  better  their  fortunes  the  great  lords  enclosed  common 
lands  that  had  been  used  freely  by  the  yeomanry,  and  began  evict- 
ing tenants  to  convert  agricultural  lands  into  the  sheep  pastures 
that  required  little  labor  and  returned  a  quick  money  income  from 
sales  of  wool  in  Flanders.  The  misery  of  the  people  so  displaced 
and  forced  into  wage  labor  or  vagabondage  cannot  be  attributed 
to  any  actual  lack  of  land  or  of  industrial  opportunity.  There 
remained  land  enough  and  to  spare,  notwithstanding  enclosures 
and  evictions,  if  it  had  been  well  used ;  while  the  development  of 

1  Historical  Basis  of  Socialism  in  England,  p.  23. 


234     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

manufactures  and  commerce  had  only  begun.  If  they  had  pos- 
sessed the  knowledge  and  the  will  to  cultivate  arable  land  more 
intensively,  they  could  not  have  been  driven  from  the  soil ;  if  there 
had  been  a  free  mobility  of  labor,  they  could  have  found  employ- 
ment quickly  in  the  best  instead  of  tardily  in  the  worst  markets, 
as  too  often  happened;  if  the  organizing  ability  of  employers 
had  been  greater,  the  best  markets  would  more  quickly  have  found 
them.  But  the  value  of  land  had  become  too  great  for  their 
wasteful  methods;  they  had  to  change  or  go.  That  knowledge 
might  increase,  that  freedom  to  come  and  go  might  be  established, 
that  the  organization  of  enterprise  might  be  perfected  it  was  nec- 
essary that  these  economic  and  social  changes  which  accomplished 
so  much  ruin  should  occur.  Consequently,  if  the  world  was  to 
become  a  larger  and  a  better  place  for  the  alert,  on-moving  many, 
the  sacrifice  of  the  sluggish  had  to  be. 

The  industrial  revolution  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century 
again  occasioned  displacements  of  labor  that  bore  more  distinctly 
the  character  of  misfortune  to  those  who  were  injured  by  them. 
No  degree  of  skill,  enterprise,  or  assiduity  could  have  enabled  the 
handicraftsmen  to  hold  their  own  in  competition  with  power- 
machinery  and  the  steam-engine.  They  could  do  nothing  but 
leave  their  shops  to  wind  and  weather,  and  begin  life  over,  on 
new  terms,  in  factory  towns.  How  many  thousands  of  them 
never  fully  reestablished  themselves,  how  many  succumbed  to 
illness  or  even  to  actual  starvation  before  economic  reorganiza- 
tion was  completed,  the  reports  of  parliamentary  inquiries  bear 
witness.  Yet  an  unprecedented  increase  of  population  was  proof 
that,  on  the  whole,  the  masses  of  the  people  had  never  been  so 
prosperous.  Before  1751  the  largest  decennial  increase  had  been 
three  per  cent. ;  before  1781  it  did  not  exceed  six  per  cent.  Then, 
all  at  once,  it  rose,  decade  by  decade,  to  nine,  eleven,  fourteen,  and 
finally,  between  1811  and  1821,  to  eighteen  per  cent.  In  our  own 
time  the  displacement  of  manual  labor  by  machinery  continues,  and 
possibly  less  than  in  any  previous  period  is  the  suffering  visited 
on  the  least  valuable  portion  of  the  population,  since  not  infre- 
quently it  is  men  of  a  higher  standard  of  life  who  are  forced 
out  by  the  competition  of  a  lower  type.  Nevertheless,  so  large 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  235 

has  been  the  net  gain  from  improved  methods  of  production  that 
the  consequences  of  displacement  are  less  serious  than  they  were 
a  century  ago.  The  chance  of  finding  reemployment  quickly  is, 
for  competent  men,  greater  than  in  former  times,  and  the  period 
of  search  is  made  endurable  by  accumulated  savings  and  varied 
forms  of  aid.  All  in  all,  industrial  history  discloses  a  progressive 
diminution  of  the  proportion  of  inevitable  suffering  mixed  with 
the  gains  of  progress;  but  the  absolute  increase  remains.  The 
personnel  of  the  displaced  class  changes  more  rapidly  than  in 
earlier  times,  but  the  class,  as  a  class,  is  renewed.  As  a  class,  it 
cannot  disappear  as  long  as  progress  continues. 

Such,  in  its  simplest  statement,  is  the  law  of  the  cost  of 
progress.  "He  that  increaseth  knowledge  increaseth  sorrow." 
Whatever  augments  well-being  destroys  some  livelihood.  As 
an  abstract  proposition,  no  well-informed  student  of  social 
phenomena  would  call  this  truth  in  question.  But,  unfortu- 
nately, the  law-makers,  the  social  reformers,  and  the  moralists 
have  not  bound  it  upon  their  fingers  nor  written  it  upon  the 
tables  of  their  hearts.  They  legislate,  reform,  and  advise,  for- 
getful that  their  wisest  endeavors  can  be  at  the  best  only  "some- 
thing between  a  hindrance  and  a  help";  and  the  world  goes  on, 
therefore,  not  only  deceiving  itself  with  dreams,  but  wasting  its 
resources  on  impossible  undertakings. 

For  this  principle  is  one  that  would  make  the  instant  quietus 
of  many  vain  questionings  if  it  were  an  ever-present  element  in 
our  thinking.  The  poor  have  always  been  with  us.  'Must  they 
be  with  us  always?  Or  may  we  hope  that  economic  prosperity 
and  social  justice  will  one  day  mete  out  comfort,  if  not  abundance, 
to  all? 

Not  unless  we  can  attain  "finality  in  a  world  of  change."  Not 
unless  there  is  a  definite  limit  to  the  humanistic  progress  of  the 
race;  for  the  conditions  that  would  eliminate  poverty  from  the 
earth  would  terminate  the  life  that  is  more  than  meat,  in  society 
first,  and  afterwards  in  individuals.  Unless  all  men  could  be 
made  equally  prudent,  equally  judicious,  neither  an  increase  of 
wealth  nor  changes  in  its  distribution  could  prevent  the  occasional 
sweeping  away  of  possessions  by  the  social  rearrangements  that 


236    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

progress  demands.  The  relative  dimensions  of  poverty  will  con- 
tract and  its  misery  will  be  alleviated,  but  there  is  no  reason  to 
believe  that  it  will  ever  wholly  disappear. 

Will  multitudes  of  human  beings  remain  always  in  practical 
subjection  to  individual  or  corporate  masters?  Can  we  not  abol- 
ish economic  slavery  as  we  have  abolished  legal  bondage? 
Aristotle's  argument  that  slavery  inheres  in  civilization  has 
shocked  the  sensitive  and  amused  the  shallow,  while  both  have 
quoted  it  to  show  what  foolishness  a  philosopher  can  teach.  But 
to  the  wise  it  will  ever  remain  a  profound  though  mournful  truth. 
Essential  slavery  has  aptly  been  described  as  the  estate  of  a  man 
who  "can't  get  any  freedom."  We  have  changed  the  legal  con- 
ditions under  which  millions  of  men  and  women  perform  ill- 
requited  tasks  of  daily  toil.  To  some  extent  we  have  diminished 
the  total  magnitude  of  their  misery,  if  not  in  every  individual  case 
its  extreme  intensity.  But  we  have  not  enabled  them  to  get  actual 
freedom.  We  have  made  it  unlawful  to  buy  and  sell  their  per- 
sons. The  master  can  no  longer  obtain  control  of  the  laborer's 
time  and  strength,  and  therefore  of  his  freedom,  from  any  legal 
principal  but  the  laborer  himself.  The  laborer  cannot  sell  his  own 
freedom  in  perpetuity.  But  he  can  sell  any  portion  of  it,  or  all  of 
it  subdivided  into  portions,  for  a  limited  period  of  time,  or  for 
his  whole  life  subdivided  into  periods.  Practically,  therefore,  any 
man  or  woman  may  sell  his  or  her  entire  freedom  for  life,  and 
practically  thousands  of  both  men  and  women  are  compelled  by 
hunger  to  make  the  sale  on  terms  that  are  personally  degrading. 
Yet  that  interpretation  of  this  melancholy  fact  which  attributes  it 
to  the  wickedness  and  greed  of  a  capital-owning  class  is  a  tissue 
of  economic  and  sociological  fallacies.  Another  interpretation, 
which  explains  it  as  unavoidable  misfortune,  becomes  a  perversion 
of  history  when,  in  the  desire  to  prove  that  the  world  has  grown 
better,  it  assumes  that  ancient  legal  slavery  was  a  consciously- 
devised  oppression.  Neither  oppression  nor  greed  has  been  at 
any  time  the  first  cause  of  legal  bondage  or  of  economic  depend- 
ence. Both  are  secondary  causes,  induced  by  experiences  with  a 
slavery  already  existent. 

Modern  civilization  does  not  require,  it  does  not  even  need, 
the  drudgery  of  needle-women  or  the  crushing  toil  of  men  in  a 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  237 

score  of  life-destroying  occupations.  If  these  wretched  beings 
should  drop  out  of  existence  and  no  others  stood  ready  to  fill 
their  places,  the  economic  activities  of  the  world  would  not  greatly 
suffer.  A  thousand  devices  latent  in  inventive  brains  would 
quickly  make  good  any  momentary  loss.  The  true  view  of  the 
facts  is  that  these  people  continue  to  exist  after  the  kinds  of  work 
that  they  know  how  to  perform  have  ceased  to  be  of  any  consid- 
erable value  to  society.  Society  continues  to  employ  them  for  a 
remuneration  not  exceeding  the  cost  of  getting  the  work  done  in 
some  other  and  perhaps  better  way.  This  economic  law  has  been 
too  much  neglected  in  scientific  discussion.  It  should  be  repeated 
and  illustrated  at  every  opportunity.  Incessantly  we  are  told  that 
unskilled  labor  creates  the  wealth  of  the  world.  It  would  be 
nearer  the  truth  to  say  that  large  classes  of  unskilled  labor  do  not 
create  their  own  subsistence.  The  laborers  that  have  no  adaptive- 
ness,  that  bring  no  new  ideas  to  their  work,  that  have  no  suspicion 
of  the  next  best  thing  to  turn  to  in  an  emergency,  might  better  be 
identified  with  the  dependent  classes  than  with  the  wealth- 
creators. 

The  same  economic  law  offers  the  true  interpretation  of  ancient 
slavery.  In  strictness  civilization  did  not  rest  on  slavery.  It 
was  not  in  any  true  sense  maintained  by  slavery.  The  conditions 
that  created  the  civilization  created  economic  dependence,  and 
they  are  working  in  the  same  way,  with  similar  results,  now. 
Ancient  civilization  accepted  the  dependence  and  utilized  it  in  the 
crude  form  of  slavery.  Modern  civilization  accepts  and  utilizes 
it  in  the  slightly  more  refined  form  of  the  wage  system. 

Certain  great  social  tasks  of  creative  organization  have  always 
confronted  our  race.  The  enforced  effort  to  achieve  them  has 
been  history's  great  competitive  examination.  The  slaves  and 
serfs  have  been  those  who  have  failed.  The  first  great  necessity 
was  social  unity, — the  power  to  act  together  in  a  disciplined 
way, — and  the  first  slaves  were  those  who  could  not  create  a 
sufficiently  coherent  social  organization  to  sustain  a  growing  civil- 
ization. They  had  to  make  way  before  others  who  were  equal  to 
that  achievement,  and  they  became  slaves  not  solely  nor  chiefly 
because  of  a  conqueror's  tyranny,  but  primarily  because  slavery 
or  serfdom  was  practically  the  only  economic  disposition  that 


238    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

could  be  made  of  them.  Now  that  social  unity  has  been  in  good 
measure  established,  and  the  world  has  entered  on  yet  larger  un- 
dertakings, the  condition  of  freedom  is  the  ability  to  devise  new 
things,  to  create  new  opportunities,  to  make  not  only  two  blades 
of  grass  grow  where  one  grew  before,  but  to  make  a  hundred 
kinds  of  grass  grow  where  before  grew  none  at  all.  Accordingly, 
the  practically  unfree  task-workers  of  this  time  are  those  who, 
unaided,  can  accomplish  none  of  these  new  things.  They  are 
those  who  might  do  well  in  old  familiar  ways,  but  who  have  noth- 
ing to  turn  to  when  their  ways  cease  to  be  of  value  to  the  world. 
To  live  they  must  force  depreciated  services  upon  society  on  any 
terms  that  society  can  continue  to  allow.  They  are  unfree  task- 
workers  not  because  society  chooses  to  oppress  them,  but  because 
society  has  not  yet  devised  or  stumbled  upon  any  other  dispo- 
sition to  make  of  them.  Civilization,  therefore,  is  not  cruel. 
Rather  it  is  supporting  and  trying  to  utilize  the  wrecks  and  fail~ 
ures  of  its  own  imperfect  past. 

But  it  may  be  said:  All  these  negative  conclusions  are  based 
on  the  assumption  that  the  regime  of  individualism  is  to  con- 
tinue. Might  not  redemption  from  poverty  and  dependence  be 
possible  under  the  reign  of  a  beneficent  socialism  ? 

Two  systems  of  socialism  have  been  proposed,  if  we  classify 
them  according  to  plans  of  organization,  and  two  if  we  classify 
with  reference  to  a  proposed  division  of  wealth.  According  to 
one  plan  industrial  administration  would  be  centralized ;  accord- 
ing to  the  other  it  would  be  decentralized.  Either  of  these 
systems  might  be  communistic,  incomes  being  made  equal  through- 
out society,  or  either  might  be  non-communistic,  the  services  of 
different  men  being  valued  unequally. 

Decentralized  socialism  would  merely  substitute  competing  com- 
munities for  competing  private  organizations.  It  would  follow 
that  some  communities  would  prosper  more  than  others,  and  that 
some,  therefore,  would  presently  come  under  subjection  to  the 
others.  A  centralized  socialism  would  probably  attempt  to  estab- 
lish a  rigid  and  final  system  of  occupations,  in  the  hope  of  pre- 
venting industrial  derangements.  If  successful,  the  attempt 
would  make  an  end  of  progress.  If  no  such  attempt  were  made, 
men  would  be  thrown,  as  now,  from  time  to  time,  out  of  that  ideal 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  239 

arrangement  in  which  each  did  the  work  to  which  he  was  best 
adapted,  and  therefore,  if  rewarded  in  proportion  to  their  services, 
the  unfortunates  would  receive,  as  now,  only  the  pittance  that 
would  no  more  than  support  life.  The  one  difference  would  be 
that  society  in  its  corporate  capacity  would  assume  the  responsi- 
bility of  finding  new  work  for  them ;  but,  rewarding  them  accord- 
ing to  performance  only,  it  would  practically  have  them  in  sub- 
jection. They  would  only  have  exchanged  masters,  and  slavery 
to  individuals  for  slavery  to  society. 

If,  vainly  hoping  to  escape  from  this  dilemma,  society  should 
not  only  assume  the  responsibility  of  finding  new  opportunities 
for  the  displaced,  but  should  undertake  to  compensate  them  for 
the  buffetings  and  losses  that  they  had  suffered  by  reason  of  indus- 
trial changes,  and  regardless  of  their  resulting  worth  to  the  com- 
monwealth, it  would  transform  the  character  of  its  socialism. 
Rewarding  no  longer  according  to  service,  the  socialism  would 
become  communism.  Men  of  unequal  power  to  work  and  to  use, 
of  widely  varying  capacities  to  enjoy,  would  share  alike  the  com- 
mon product  of  their  labor.  Only  one  result  could  follow.  Men 
of  animal  natures,  having  as  large  incomes  as  men  of  a  higher 
development,  would  spend  a  disproportionate  share  of  it  on  the 
grosser  sorts  of  gratification.  Materialism  of  life,  with  its  debase- 
ment, would  be  the  unprofitable  substitute  for  economic  hardship. 
Income  cannot  be  greatly  disproportionate  to  the  social  value  of 
work,  talents,  culture,  and  virtues,  without  degrading  the  man. 
If  it  be  said  that  many  men  whose  whole  social  value  is  of  the 
slightest  do  have,  in  fact,  fabulous  incomes,  which  socialism  would 
diminish,  the  reply  is  that  there  are  not,  accurately  speaking,  many 
such  men,  and  that  there  would  be  no  apparent  advantage  in  sub- 
stituting a  systematic  breeding  of  dull  sensualists  for  the  sporadic 
genesis  of  more  brilliant  'debauchees. 

Shall  we  then  conclude  that  an  unrestrained  individualism, 
working  out  social  changes  that  seem  advantageous  to  their  pro- 
moters, can  achieve  limitless  progress,  and  that  only  harm  could 
come  from  any  checking  of  the  rate  or  intensity  of  its  activity? 
Shall  we  assume  that  the  inevitable  costs  of  progress  in  economic 
loss  and  human  suffering  must  be  uncomplainingly  borne  by  those 
on  whom  they  fall,  because  all  private  reforms  are  Utopian,  and 


240    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

all  public  regulation  of  industry  or  assumption  of  its  losses  in 
accordance  with  any  form  of  socialism  or  communism  would 
be  worse  than  folly?  Must  we  acknowledge  that  society  has  no 
responsibility  for  the  consequences  of  the  processes  and  changes 
by  which  its  own  well-being  is  maintained?  Shall  we  give  our- 
selves over  to  the  belief  that  laissez  faire  is  the  last  word  of  social 
science  and  the  first  law  of  ethics? 

Nothing  in  the  conditions  of  progress  set  forth  in  the  foregoing 
study  hints  at  other  than  negative  answers  to  these  questions. 
On  the  contrary,  if  the  law  of  evolution  exemplified  in  human 
society  has  rightly  been  understood,  we  are  prepared  to  find  cer- 
tain real  limitations  of  the  number  and  extent  of  the  social,  polit- 
ical, or  industrial  metamorphoses  which,  within  a  given  period,  can 
combine  in  genuine  progress.  We  may  expect  to  discover  a  grow- 
ing necessity  for  integral  social  action.  We  may  expect  to  hear 
the  conscience  of  trie  race  declaring  that  society  is  responsible 
for  the  costs  of  its  existence. 

In  dynamic  phenomena  of  every  kind  results  are  a  function,  as 
the  mathematicians  express  it,  of  time.  With  a  given  amount  of 
energy  we  can  go  in  an  hour  or  a  day  a  given  distance.  Pro- 
long the  time,  and  we  can  increase  the  distance.  In  the  incon- 
ceivably complicated  dynamic  phenomena  of  life,  growth,  organ- 
ization, development,  are  functions  of  time.  If  we  force  the  rate 
of  transformation,  we  prevent  the  establishment  of  relations  of 
integration,  differentiation,  or  segregation,  necessary  to  complete 
organization.  And  if  organization  is  incomplete  there  is  a  limit 
to  the  life-possibilities  of  the  organism.  It  can  perform  less  and 
enjoy  less  while  it  lives,  and  its  dissolution  will  begin  earlier. 
Society  on  a  great  scale,  as  the  individual  life  on  a  smaller  scale, 
exemplifies  these  laws.  If  social  evolution  is  to  continue,  and 
the  life  of  man  is  to  become  larger,  and.  richer  with  increasing 
happiness,  social  organization  in  the  future  will  be  not  simpler 
than  it  is  now,  but  more  complex.  In  its  larger  being,  individual- 
ism, socialism,  and  communism  may  not  be  the  mutually  exclu- 
sive things  that  they  now  seem  to  be.  There  may  be  not  a  nar- 
rower but  a  wider  field  for  individual  effort,  not  less  but  more 
personal  liberty.  At  the  same  time,  more  enterprises  may  be 
brought  under  public  control,  and  more  of  the  good  things  of  life 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  241 

may  be  distributed,  like  the  sunshine  and  the  air,  in  free  and 
equal  portions.  The  displaced  men  and  women  may  be  more 
quickly  reestablished  than  now,  their  services  be  made  of  greatef 
value,  and  society  may  assume  a  larger  portion  of  the  burden 
of  their  misfortunes.  All  these  possibilities  are  implications  of 
the  second  of  the  limitations  of  progress  to  which  attention  has 
been  called, — namely,  that  if  the  increase  of  social  activity  be- 
comes disproportionate  to  the  constructive  reorganization  of  social 
relationships,  the  increase  of  suffering  will  become  degeneration. 
A  few  of  the  facts  in  evidence  may  be  noted. 

Dazzled  by  the  results  of  material  progress  already  achieved, 
men  throw  themselves  into  the  enterprises  of  modern  life  with 
the  zest  of  an  ambition  that  knows  no  bounds.  The  rate  of  in- 
dustrial, professional,  political,  and  intellectual  activity  becomes 
proportionate  to  the  swiftness  of  electricity  and  steam.  The 
struggle  for  success  causes  demographic  changes  which  pro- 
foundly modify  the  social  conditions  of  existence. 

One  of  these  is  a  phenomenal  increase  of  population  following 
upon  an  enormous  production  of  wealth.  We  have  already  seen 
how  improved  industrial  conditions  in  England,  in  the  first  part 
of  this  century,  were  followed  by  an  unprecedented  increase  of 
population.  The  expansion  of  the  population  of  the  United  States 
from  3,929,214  in  1790  to  62,622,250  in  1890,  while  the  popula- 
tion of  Europe,  in  spite  of  enormous  emigration,  rapidly  multi- 
plied, was  a  phenomenon  that  Longstaff  accurately  described  as 
unique  in  history.1 

A  second  change  is  a  rapid  concentration  of  increasing  popula- 
tion in  large  cities,  where  the  great  prizes  of  worldly  success  are 
striven  for  and  won.  More  than  one-half  of  the  population  of  the 
United  States  is  now  urban.  Humanity  is  flowing  into  cities 
faster  than  the  reorganization  of  the  manifold  phases  of  town  life, 
including  municipal  government,  is  achieved.  There  is  a  contin- 
uing drain  upon  the  vitality  of  the  country  to  meet  the  destruction 
of  vitality  in  the  towns,  which  makes  the  depopulation  of  rural 
sections  a  grave  matter  for  the  future  of  civilization.  "By  a  curious 
perversion,"  says  Longstaff,  "the  advantage  of  towns  is  said  to 
be  'life.'  There  is  in  truth  more  life  in  a  given  space,  more  high 

1  Studies  in  Statistics,  pp.  54-55. 


242     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

pressure,  more  rush ;  but  it  is  the  rush  of  a  clock  running  down."  * 
A  displacement,  in  many  industries,  of  men  of  a  relatively  high 
standard  of  life  by  cheaper  men  of  a  lower  standard,  more  rapidly 
than  the  better  men  can  find  places  in  industries  requiring  rela- 
tively intelligent  labor,  is  a  third  demographic  consequence  of 
intense  activity.  The  normal  displacement,  as  has  been  shown,  is 
of  the  dull,  mechanical,  non-adaptable  man  by  a  more  versatile 
competitor.  But  industries  are  not  all  of  the  same  character. 
Some  are  more  progressive  in  their  methods  than  others  because 
they  contribute  to  the  satisfaction  of  growing  wants,  which  cre- 
ate a  varying  demand,  while  others  minister  to  wants  that  are 
relatively  stationary.  In  some  industries,  therefore,  the  high- 
priced  man  is  the  cheap  man ;  in  others  the  low-priced  man  is  the 
cheaper  man.  Economists  who  have  contended  that  high  wages 
mean  a  low  cost  of  labor,  and  those  who  have  affirmed  the  con- 
trary, are  alike  half  right  and  half  wrong.  They  have  been  ob- 
serving different  classes  of  industries.  Under  a  uniform,  self- 
regulating  circulation  of  labor,  the  versatile  man,  of  the  high 
standard  of  life,  would  displace  the  cheaper  man  in  one  class  of 
industries,  and  the  duller,  cheaper  man  would  displace  higher- 
priced  labor  in  the  other  class.  Under  normal  progress  the  major 
displacement  would  be  of  inferior  by  superior  men.  But  unless 
economic  evolution,  creating  new  wants  and  varying  demands,  and 
reorganizing  industry  to  supply  them,  is  going  on  more  rapidly 
than  the  growth  of  social  unrest,  or  of  those  political  policies  that 
so  often  force  hordes  of  destitute  people  into  migrations  that 
have  no  definite  destination,  there  may  be  a  cruel  and  ruinous 
substitution  of  the  lower  for  the  higher  grade  of  workman,  pre- 
maturely and  far  beyond  normal  limits. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  struggle  for  success  piles  up  in 
the  community  much  wreckage  of  degeneration.  Every  statisti- 
cian has  been  struck  with  the  seemingly  anomalous  fact  that 
suicide,  insanity,  crime,  vagabondage,  increase  with  wealth,  edu- 
cation, and  refinement ;  that,  as  Morselli  says,2  they  are  phenomena 
of  civilization.  But  the  fact  is  not  altogether  anomalous  after 
all.  These  things  are  a  part  of  the  cost  of  progress,  forms  that 

1  Longstaff,  Ibid.,  p.  35. 
'Suicide,  p.  16. 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  243 

the  cost  of  progress  takes  when  the  rate  of  social  activity  exceeds 
the  rate  of  constructive  reorganization.  Quicken  the  pace  of  a 
moving  army,  and  the  number  of  the  unfortunates  who  will  fall 
exhausted  by  the  way  will  be  increased  disproportionately.  Besides 
quickening  the  pace  let  discipline  lapse  and  organization  break 
up,  and  the  number  of  stragglers  will  be  more  than  doubled.  In- 
crease the  strain  of  any  kind  of  competitive  work  and  derange  the 
conditions  under  which  it  is  done,  and  the  percentage  of  failures 
will  rise. 

Practical  solution  of  the  problems  of  responsibility  and  policy 
that  are  presented  by  the  conditions  and  tendencies  which  we  have 
looked  at  depends  on  a  difficult  combination  of  two  very  difficult 
things.  The  first  is  to  convince  one  set  of  men  and  women  that 
society  ought  to  assume  the  costs  of  its  progress,  and,  as  far  as 
possible,  take  openly  the  responsibility  for  replacing  the  displaced. 
This  is  the  element  of  truth  in  socialism.  We  have  made  progress 
in  this  direction.  Practicality  and  theoretically  society  admitted 
the  obligation  when,  in  the  reigns  of  the  Tudors,  it  began  to 
supplement  private  and  ecclesiastical  charity  by  systems  of  public 
relief.  In  a  hundred  forms  of  legislation  and  administration,  in 
public  education,  in  the  multiplication  of  asylums  and  hospitals, 
in  a  thousand  modes  of  private  beneficence,  the  duty  is  being  more 
adequately  discharged  by  each  later  generation.  But  we  are  yet 
far  from  comprehending  its  full  extent.  We  realize  but  faintly 
how  far  the  incompetent  and  impoverished  have  been  made  so 
by  social  movements  that  have  cut  them  off  from  possibility  of 
personal  improvement.  A  second  difficulty  is  to  convince  another 
set  of  men  and  women  of  the  fallacy  of  a  cardinal  socialistic  no- 
tion,— namely,  that  industrial  derangements  can  be  prevented  in 
a  progressive  world ;  to  convince  them,  therefore,  that  at  all  times 
a  portion  of  mankind  must  be  relatively  useless  to  the  community, 
and,  for  that  reason,  relatively  poor ;  and  that  their  greatest  pos- 
sible utilization  and  compensation  depend  on  their  being  held  for 
the  while  in  practical  subjection  to  other  individuals  or  to  the 
commonwealth. 

Sooner  or  later  there  will  have  to  be  a  courageous  facing  of  the 
fact  that  one  portion  of  every  community  is  inherently  progressive, 
resourceful,  creative,  capable  of  self-mastery  and  self-direction, 


244     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

while  another  portion,  capable  of  none  of  these  things,  can  be 
made  useful,  comfortable,  and  essentially  free,  only  by  being 
brought  under  bondage  to  society  and  kept  under  mastership  and 
discipline  until,  if  ever,  they  acquire  power  to  help  and  govern 
themselves.  If  one  should  say  that  we  all  believe  this  doctrine, — 
that  it  is  in  no  sense  new, — the  necessary  reply  would  be  that  we 
nevertheless  habitually  disregard  it  in  every  matter  save  the  jurid- 
ical distinction  between  the  law-abiding  and  the  criminal.  We 
accept  laissez  faire  as  the  expedient  rule  for  all  men  and  all  indus- 
tries alike,  or  we  denounce  it  as  bad  for  all  alike.  We  advocate 
socialistic  methods  for  the  entire  field  of  industry,  or  we  pro- 
nounce them  impracticable  for  any  part  of  it.  We  denounce 
compulsory  education  for  any  class  in  the  community,  or  we  insist 
on  forcing  it  on  all  classes.  In  all  which  sayings  and  doings  we 
confound  unlike  things,  and  show  ourselves  irrational  in  the  last 
degree. 

What,  then,  in  concrete  detail,  are  some  of  the  obligations 
placed  upon  individuals  and  upon  society  by  the  conditions  of 
social  progress? 

The  law  that  progressive,  self-governing  members  of  society 
should  lay  on  themselves  includes  at  least  three  groups  of  duties. 
First,  they  should  resist,  personally  and  in  their  influence,  the 
tendency  to  subordinate  higher  considerations  to  that  mere  quick- 
ening of  competitive  activity  which  goes  beyond  its  normal  func- 
tion of  means  to  end,  to  become  an  irrational,  unjustifiable  end  in 
itself.  Especially  in  the  education  of  ambitious  children  should 
competition  be  tempered.  Second,  they  should  resort  more  freely, 
as  fortunately  they  are  beginning  to  do,  to  country  life,  and 
especially  should  they  study  and  experiment  with  the  ways  and 
means  of  revitalizing  it.  Third,  they  should  cultivate  that  true 
individuality  in  the  consumption  of  wealth,  which  is  not  only  a 
mark  of  genuine  manliness  or  womanliness,  but  which  acts  on 
economic  demand  in  ways  that  give  a  competitive  advantage  to 
the  industrial  qualities  of  men  whose  standard  of  life  is  high. 

The  duties  that  society  should  discharge  in  its  relation  to  the 
general  conditions  of  progressive  activity,  and  to  its  members 
who  are  undeveloped  or  degenerate,  fall  also  into  three  groups. 
First,  society  should  assume  the  regulation  of  international  migra- 


THE  COSTS  OF  PROGRESS  245 

tion.  Each  nation  should  bear  the  burden  of  pauperism,  ig- 
norance, and  degeneracy  caused  by  its  own  progress  or  wrong- 
doing. Society  should  also  assume  the  regulation,  by  industrial 
and  labor  legislation,  of  industries  in  which  free  competition  dis- 
places the  better  man  by  the  inferior.  Perhaps  in  time  some 
of  these  industries  could  advantageously  come  directly  under  pub- 
lic management,  as  socialism  proposes.  Second,  society  should 
act  on  the  fact  that  a  proportion  of  its  population  must  be  always 
practically  unfree,  by  extending  compulsory  education  to  the  chil- 
dren of  parents  who  are  unable  or  unwilling  to  provide  in  their 
own  way  a  training  that  the  commonwealth  can  approve.  This 
education  should  be  as  well  adapted  as  knowledge,  money,  and 
sincerity  of  purpose  can  make  it,  to  the  work  of  fitting  the  children 
of  the  poor  for  life  in  a  changing  world.  Third,  society  should 
enslave,  not  figuratively,  but  literally,  all  men  and  women  who 
voluntarily  betake  themselves  to  a  life  of  vagabondage. 

These  are  the  obligations  of  individuals  and  of  the  state  that 
seem  to  be  disclosed  by  a  study  of  social  progress.  But  we  must 
not  forget  that  the  same  conditions  impose  a  negative  duty  also, 
an  obligation  of  restraint.  For  all  reform,  all  philanthropic  work, 
is  itself  a  phase  of  social  progress,  and,  like  all  others,  has  a  cost 
in  effort  and  suffering.  Therefore,  if  philanthropic  reform  is 
hurried,  or  pursued  by  too  radical  methods,  it  may  convert  the 
absolute  increase  of  evil,  which  progress  costs,  into  a  relative 
increase,  and  so  wholly  defeat  itself.  Lombroso  and  Laschi  once 
contended  that  political  crime  (the  crime,  that  is,  of  those  who 
unsuccessfully  resist  governmental  authority)  consists  essentially 
in  an  attempt  to  accomplish  in  crude  and  violent  ways  desirable 
changes  or  reforms  for  which  society  is  not  yet  ready.1  Devotion 
to  the  cause  of  progress  these  authors  proposed  to  call  by  the  name 
"philoneism" ;  the  dread  of  change  by  the  name  "misoneism." 
Society  is,  on  the  whole,  misoneistic ;  and  we  can  mend  its  ways 
but  slowly. 

For,  whatever  happens,  we  must  keep  in  touch  with  our  fellow- 
men.  It  was  Marcus  Aurelius,  one  of  the  most  modern-minded 
men  of  the  first  great  western  civilization,  who  said : 

"The  intelligence  of  the  universe  is  social.    Accordingly  it  has 

1  Le  Crime  politique  et  les  Revolutions. 


246     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

made  the  inferior  things  for  the  sake  of  the  superior,  and  it  has 
fitted  the  superior  to  one  another.  Thou  seest  how  it  has  sub- 
ordinated, coordinated,  and  assigned  to  everything  its  proper 
portion,  and  has  brought  together  into  concord  with  one  another 
the  things  which  are  the  best."  * 

That  was  nearly  two  thousand  years  ago.  The  aspect  of  the 
world  has  changed,  but  the  essential  nature  and  the  fundamental 
structure  of  human  society  have  not. 

lMarci  Antonini  Imperatoris  De  Rebus  Suis.    V,  xxx. 


PART  III 
SYNTHETIC 


CHAPTER  XV 

PLURALISTIC   BEHAVIOR 

I.    THE  DYNAMICS  OF  PLURALISTIC  STRUGGLE 
i.    LIFE  AS  PLURALISTIC 

OUTSIDE  my  window  seven  belligerent  sparrows  make  a 
machine-gun  din  as  they  fight  over  a  crust  bequeathed  to  them 
by  an  unscientific  philanthropist.  While  I  watch  them,  a  motor- 
cycle policeman  charging  into  the  street  arrests  a  speeding  auto- 
mobile flying  blue  flags  and  laden  with  violets  and  girls.  In  two 
minutes  the  boy  "bunch"  of  the  block  has  assembled  to  learn 
whether  the  car  will  be  permitted  to  go  on  to  New  Haven,  in 
time  for  "the  game." 

Of  occurrences  fundamentally  like  these  life  largely  consists. 
Living  bodies  "carry  on"  to  sustain  and  to  perpetuate  themselves. 
On  occasion  they  fight.  Their  activity  is  more,  however,  than  a 
struggle  for  bare  existence.  It  is  an  endeavor  to  enlarge  life  and 
to  enrich  it.  Conscious  life  is  a  struggle  for  satisfactions,  includ- 
ing individuation,  and  for  achievement. 

Perpetuating  itself,  life  multiplies  itself,  and  the  multiplication 
of  individual  lives  complicates  and  intensifies  the  struggle  for 
existence.  The  casualties  are  countless.  The  organisms  that 
are  most  "fit,"  in  the  sense  of  being  best  adapted  to  their  circum- 
stances and  best  equipped  to  meet  crises,  survive.  There  is  a 
natural  selection. 

The  activity  of  a  living  body  is  reaction  to  stimulus,  and 
reaction  is  behavior. 

All  reaction  is  a  physiological  behavior,  and  many  reactions  of 
tracts  and  organs  are  physiological  only ;  but  whatever  the  entire 
organism  does  as  a  unit  is  also  behavior  in  a  psychological  mean- 
ing of  the  word. 

249 


2  so    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

The  behavior  of  plants  and  of  the  lowlier  animals  is  uncon- 
scious, or  perhaps  infinitesimally  conscious :  it  is  subinstinctive. 
Such,  for  example,  is  the  turning  of  the  leaves  of  heliotropic 
plants  to  the  sunlight.  Truly  instinctive  behavior  begins  with 
organisms  that  have  acquired  an  automatically  reacting  nervous 
mechanism.  It  is  accompanied  by  awareness,  including  sensa- 
tions, with  which,  in  the  vertebrates  (the  higher  ones,  at  least) 
are  associated  also  emotions,  simple  ideas,  and  memories. 
These  higher  animals  behave  instinctively,  and  also  by  habit:  in 
the  individual  span  of  life  between  birth  and  death  they  learn 
much  by  haphazard  trial  and  elimination.  The  behavior  of  man- 
kind is  instinctive,  habitistic,  and  rational.  Self-consciousness 
has  appeared,  speech  has  been  acquired,  and  hit-or-miss  trial  has 
been  overlaid  and  brought  under  control  by  experimentation  in 
thought,  which  ranges  from  guessing  to  systematic  induction. 
Ideas,  accordingly,  have  been  correlated  and  coordinated. 

The  sum  of  behavior  is  the  total  struggle  for  existence  and 
achievement.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  it  consists  of  effort  to 
meet  instant  needs.  A  lesser  but  large  part  consists  of  efforts 
to  obtain  desired  but  not  imperative  satisfactions.  The  remainder 
is  a  free  expenditure  "for  the  fun  of  it,"  not  at  the  moment  pro- 
ductive, but  tending  always  to  become  experiment,  including  ex- 
ploration of  the  environment ;  and  experiment  leads  to  discovery, 
without  which  there  could  be  no  achievement. 

In  a  world  of  limited  inhabitable  area  the  multiplication  of 
individuals  (whether  cells  or  organisms),  living  by  trial  and  error 
and  tending  to  explore  their  environment,  causes  contacts  and 
creates  groupings  of  living  units. 

The  earliest  and  simplest  groupings  are  an  incident  of  birth. 

Usually  an  organism  in  its  lifetime  reproduces  itself  more  than 
once.  Until  they  scatter,  plural  offspring  are  in  form  a  group. 
They  share  good  and  bad  fortune. 

The  cells  that  compose  and  constitute  a  plant  or  an  animal  are 
united  in  the  intimacies  of  structure  and  process.  Their  collective 
life  is  physiological.  Usually  they  cannot  break  away  from  the 
organic  whole,  or  live  apart  from  it. 

The  coelenterate  polyps  that  secrete  coral  are  attached  directly, 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  251 

or  through  branches,  to  a  parent  stem.  They  cannot  get  asunder, 
but  one  of  them  torn  away  by  violence  could  be  the  parent  of  a 
new  zoophyte.  They  do  not  constitute  an  organism.  Their  col- 
lective life  is  conjunctive  only. 

The  bees  of  a  swarm,  the  beasts  of  a  herd,  the  beavers  of  a 
dam,  the  men  of  a  community,  move  about  in  individual  detach- 
ment. Any  one  of  them  could  live  a  hermit  life  for  a  while ;  but 
usually  individuals  of  a  kind  act  with  reference  to  one  another 
and  keep  near  one  another. 

Keeping  near  one  another,  notwithstanding  physical  detach- 
ment, is  behavior,  and  the  collective  life  of  physically  detached 
individuals  is  behavioristic  only. 

Accordingly,  the  multiplication  of  lives  not  only  intensifies  the 
struggle  of  each  individual  for  existence  and  complicates  its  con- 
ditions; it  also  in  certain  instances  creates  for  all  or  nearly  all 
individuals  of  the  kind  a  physically  collective  life,  and  in  other 
instances  it  complicates  and  organizes  behavior  and  creates  for  all 
or  nearly  all  individuals  of  the  kind  a  behavioristically  collective 
life. 

The  behavior  that  constitutes  the  collective  life  of  swarm,  herd, 
pack,  or  community  is  pluralistic.  Any  one  or  any  combination 
of  behavior-inciting  stimuli  may  on  occasion  be  reacted  to  by  more 
than  one  individual ;  as  the  bread  crust  is  by  the  seven  sparrows, 
and  as  the  "cop"  and  the  car  are  by  the  gangster  boys  of  the 
block. 

The  reactions  of  the  individuals  of  a  plurel  to  a  stimulation 
common  to  them  all  in  the  sense  that  it  reaches  all  may  be  similar 
or  they  may  be  dissimilar.  To  the  same  stimulus  or  to  like  stimuli 
like  organisms  normally  react  in  like  manner,  as  crows  in  the  corn- 
field take  wing  at  a  gunshot  and  boys  in  the  street  run  after  the 
fire  engine. 

Alike  or  unlike,  pluralistic  reactions  may  be  simultaneous  or 
they  may  "string  out"  from  prompt  to  dilatory.  They  may  be 
substantially  equal  in  strength,  or  unequal.  They  may  be  equally, 
or  unequally  persistent. 

Like  acts  by  detached  individuals  may  be  competitive,  or  they 
may  fall  into  combinations,  as  when  animals  in  a  pack  follow  the 


252     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

same  quarry  or  beat  off  a  common  enemy.     When  it  is  often 
enough  repeated,  combined  action  becomes  habitual  group  action. 

Whether  they  are  dissimilar  or  similar,  rivalistic  or  combined, 
simultaneous  or  not,  equal  or  unequal,  pluralistic  reactions  to  a 
common  stimulation  make  a  strictly  individualistic  struggle  for 
existence  impossible.  Above  all  is  this  true  of  the  human  struggle 
for  achievement.  It  is  a  pluralistic  struggle. 

Pluralistic  behavior,  in  distinction  from  individual  behavior, 
has  its  own  conditions,  forms,  and  laws. 

In  early  youth  I  often  drove  cattle  on  the  highway,  and  I 
learned  that  the  secret  of  keeping  them  moving  in  good  form  lay 
in  the  "crack"  of  the  stimulus  that  I  relied  on.  In  later  youth, 
conducting  and  teaching  a  rural  school,  I  learned  that  there  also 
one  secret  of  orderly  cooperation  lay  in  the  cogency  of  the  stim- 
ulation applied.  Whether  physical,  utilitarian,  or  moral,  it  must 
be  adequate.  From  these  experiences,  however,  I  learned  also 
another  thing  not  less  interesting.  It  was  that  the  part  played  by 
resemblances  (or  differences)  among  nervous  systems  is  always 
significant  and  may  be  determinative.  Two  or  three  unruly  steers 
in  a  herd  could  tax  the  powers  of  any  driver.  Two  or  three  con- 
ceited morons  in  a  school  could  tax  the  ingenuity  and  the  patience 
of  any  teacher. 

These  instances  are  not  oddities ;  they  are  representative  rela- 
tions. Always  the  character  of  pluralistic  reactions  (as  similar  or 
dissimilar,  simultaneous  or  not,  equal  or  unequal)  is  determined 
by  two  variables,  namely,  (i)  the  strength  of  the  stimulation, 
and  (2)  the  similarity  (or  the  dissimilarity)  of  the  reacting  mech- 
anisms. 

Pluralistic  behavior  is  the  subject-matter  of  the  psychology  of 
society,  otherwise  called  sociology,  a  science  statistical  in  method, 
which  attempts,  first,  to  factorize  pluralistic  behavior,  and  sec- 
ond, to  explain  its  genesis,  integration,  differentiation,  and  func- 
tioning by  accounting  for  them  in  terms  of  the  variables  (i) 
stimulation,  and  (2)  the  resemblance  (more  or  less)  to  one 
another  of  reacting  mechanisms.1 

JThe  psychology  of  society  and  social  psychology  are  different  things, 
as  I  pointed  out  in  the  article  on  "The  Psychology  of  Society,"  in  Science, 
January  6,  1899.  One  is  identical  with  sociology,  the  other  is  not- 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  253 

2.    REGIONAL  INFLUENCE 

Stimuli  are  infinitely  various.  In  character  they  range  from 
compulsions,  impulsions,  and  constraints  to  inducements  and 
allurements. 

Among  stimuli  that  all  living  bodies  react  to  are  phenomena  of 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  including  its  life-sustaining  resources, 
and  of  the  atmosphere,  including  variations  of  temperature  and 
of  precipitation.  All  these  are  unevenly  distributed.  Geography 
is  a  variegated  thing.  There  are  regions  that  forbid,  repel,  starve, 
and  kill,  and  there  are  regions  that  nourish  and  attract.  There- 
fore, the  teeming  life  of  the  earth  is  apportioned  and  segregated, 
here  in  energetic  aggregations,  there  in  sporadic,  ineffective  exam- 
ples according  to  the  regional  dispersion  of  environmental  bounty 
and  exaction,  incitement,  and  constraint. 

The  distribution  of  inhabitable  areas  on  the  earth's  surface  is 
neither  haphazard  nor  uniform.  It  is  a  grouping  by  coastal 
plains,  river  basins,  and  mountain  systems,  or  in  relation  to  them. 
The  river  deltas  and  the  tide-water  lowlands  are  relatively  acces- 
sible. The  bottom  lands  and  lower  levels  of  the  watershed  are 
abundantly  productive  of  primary  means  of  subsistence,  the  re- 
moter plains  and  plateaus  less  so.  Least  bountiful  in  primary 
food  products,  least  accessible,  and,  in  general,  least  inhabitable 
are  the  high  altitudes,  in  particular  the  continental  divides,  where 
river  systems  take  their  rise. 

For  brief  periods  of  time  the  physical  environment  is  normally 
static — approximately — but  if  its  permutations  throughout  long 
periods  are  observed,  it  is  seen  to  be  highly  kinetic.  It  "breaks 
out"  in  volcanic  disturbances  and  in  earthquakes.  Variations  of 
climate  from  cold  to  hot,  from  wet  to  dry,  range  from  enormous 
revolutions  consequent  upon  subsidences  and  elevations  of  the 
earth's  crust,  or  upon  the  advance  or  retreat  of  the  polar  ice  cap, 
down  to  minor  fluctuations  that  are  measured  by  familiar  peri- 
odicities of  maximum  and  minimum  rainfall. 

The  relative  advantageousness  of  physical  environments  for 
sustaining,  energizing,  and  stimulating  pluralistic  life  is  a  factor 
of  all  social  phenomena.  It  determines  the  density  and  the  com- 
position of  every  population.  It  provokes  and  limits  collective 
effort.  It  fixes  the  possibilities  of  organization  and  of  collective 


254     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

effectiveness.  Directly,  and  indirectly  through  collective  effort 
and  effectiveness,  it  makes  and  limits  the  possibilities  of  well-being 
and  of  individuation. 

3.    CIRCUMSTANTIAL  PRESSURE 

If  the  foregoing  propositions  are  undeniable,  the  physiographic 
or  "environmental"  theory  of  history  is  true,  as  far  as  it  goes.  It 
is  an  inadequate  and  unsatisfactory  philosophy,  however,  because 
it  fails  to  perceive  and  to  explain  the  media  through  which  a 
physical  environment  acts  upon  conduct.  We  are  creatures  of 
circumstance. 

For  among  the  stimuli  that  incite  and  sustain  behavior  are  vari- 
ous annoyances,  hardships,  dangers,  and  adversities  that  bear 
so  heavily  upon  individuals  living  in  isolation  or  unaided  by 
neighboring  fellow-beings  that  they  constrain  great  numbers  of 
animals  of  various  species  and  great  numbers  of  men  to  live  in 
aggregations ;  and  constrain  great  numbers  of  group-dwelling  men 
to  overlook  many  of  their  differences,  to  minimize  many  of  their 
antagonisms,  and  to  combine  their  efforts.  These  constraining 
circumstances  may  be  conceived  as  constituting  a  circumstantial 
pressure  upon  living  beings. 

In  its  totality  circumstantial  pressure,  like  chance  (as  the 
mathematicians  define  chance),  comprises  innumerable  small 
causes.  Rain  drives  beasts  and  human  beings  into  momentary 
assemblages.  So  does  the  glare  of  noonday  sunlight.  When 
winds  are  cold  some  creatures — hogs,  notoriously,  and  sheep — 
huddle  together  for  warmth.  Drought,  drying  many  springs  and 
streams  commonly  resorted  to,  and  compelling  assemblage  at 
those  that  remain,  is  often  a  pressure  of  extreme  intensity. 
Darkness  with  its  fearsome  uncertainties  occasions  recurrent  con- 
sorting of  individuals  (animal  or  human)-  that  feel  sure  of  one 
another.  These  pressures  are  not  in  themselves  causes  of  co- 
operation, whereas  accidents  and  attacks  upon  persons  and  posses- 
sions commonly  are. 

The  curve,  however,  of  circumstantial  pressure  is  not  a  normal 
frequency  distribution.  It  is  skewed  by  relatively  large  causes  of 
various  magnitudes.  Of  these  the  most  general,  perhaps,  is  a 
diminishing  return  to  effort  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  Dimin- 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  255 

ishing  return  in  the  economist's  meaning  of  the  phrase  is  a  special 
case.  Economic  adversity  or  threat  is  another.  An  important 
instance  is  an  extensive  dessication,  like  that  which  periodically 
recurs  in  Western  Asia.1  Little  if  any  less  general  and  more 
unremittent  is  the  pressure  exerted  by  the  hardships  and  dangers 
of  isolation.  Continuous  but  highly  variable  is  the  pressure  of 
foreign  economic  competition,  the  reaction  to  which  is  protective 
tariff  legislation.  Intermittent  but  most  tremendous  of  circum- 
stantial pressures,  and  in  its  consequences  the  most  far-reaching, 
is  war,  and  war  is  a  product  of  countless  factors  of  more  than  one 
category,  as  the  failure  of  all  attempts  to  account  for  the  European 
war  of  1914  by  any  one  cause,  for  example,  economic  interest, 
has  abundantly  made  clear. 

The  hardships  and  dangers  of  isolation  are  measured  by  urbani- 
zation, namely,  the  percentage  of  the  population  of  a  given  area 
that  dwells  in  towns  and  cities  of  a  designated  number,  or  more, 
inhabitants.  Urbanization  is  the  best  basic  measure  of  circum- 
stantial pressure.  The  chiefly  important  phenomena  of  society 
are  more  highly  correlated  with  it  than  with  mere  density  of  pop- 
ulation. Supplementary  measures  are  fluctuations  of  prices,2  the 
foreign  exchanges,  and  the  statistics  of  war. 

4.    DEMOTIC  FACTORS  OF  LIKE-MINDEDNESS 

Regional  and  urban  aggregations  of  human  beings  increase  in 
two  ways:  (i)  by  births  in  excess  of  deaths;  (2)  by  immigration 
in  excess  of  emigration.  A  population  growing  chiefly  by  births 
in  excess  of  deaths  is  predominantly  a  genetic  aggregation.  A 
population  growing  chiefly  by  immigration  in  excess  of  emigra- 
tion is  predominantly  a  congregation.  A  normal  population  is 
both  a  genetic  aggregation  and  a  congregation. 

Normally,  a  population  is  composite.  It  is  composed  of  the 
young,  the  middle-aged,  and  the  old ;  of  males  and  females ;  of 
the  native-  and  the  foreign-born.  It  may  comprise  more  than  one 
color-race,  and  the  foreign-born  usually  comprise  more  than  one 
ethnic  stock  and  more  than  one  nationality. 

1  Ellsworth  Huntington,  The  Pulse  of  Asia. 

2  The  newspapers  reported  in  1919  that  the  Sultan  and  pashas  of  Turkey 
had  cut  down  their  harems  to  one  wife  each,  because  of  the  high  cost 
of  living! 


256    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

Normally,  as  time  goes  on,  there  is  intermarriage  among 
nationalities  of  the  same  color-race,  with  resulting  amalgamation. 
There  is  a  tendency  toward  ethnic  homogeneity  within  the  limits 
of  the  numerically  dominant  color-race. 

As  reacting  mechanisms,  the  nervous  systems  of  individuals  of 
the  same  color-race  are  in  general  more  nearly  alike  than  are  the 
nervous  systems  of  individuals  of  different  color-races ;  and  within 
the  limits  of  the  same  color-race  the  nervous  systems  of  individ- 
uals of  the  same  ethnic  stock  (for  example,  the  Germanic) 
are  in  general  more  nearly  alike  than  are  the  nervous  systems  of 
individuals  of  different  ethnic  stocks  (for  example,  the  Germanic 
and  the  Celtic) .  The  proof  is,  that  it  takes  a  stronger  stimulation 
to  obtain  like  reactions  from  individuals  of  different  color-races  or 
of  different  ethnic  stocks  of  the  same  color-race  than  it  does  to 
obtain  like  reactions  from  individuals  of  the  same  stock  or  race. 
Try  the  experiment  and  repeat  it  until  you  are  satisfied. 

The  young,  however,  react,  in  most  cases,  more  readily  to 
novel  stimulation  than  the  old  do.  An  amazing  example  (as  most 
observers  regard  it)  is  the  world-wide  interest  of  youth  in  revolu- 
tionary radicalism.  The  phenomenon  is  not  new,  however.  It 
has  been  witnessed  in  every  century.  A  significant  and  important 
consequence  of  it  is  that  it  is  easier  to  obtain  like  reactions  from 
the  young  of  intermingled  stocks  or  races  than  from  the  old. 
Revolutionary  radicalism  and  internationalism  go  together. 

The  sum  of  like  reactions,  instinctive,  habitistic,  and  rational, 
is  like-mindedness. 

The  measure  of  basic  like-mindedness  is  an  index  number, 
obtained  by  decreasing  the  weight  of  successive  increments  that 
diminish  the  homogeneity  of  their  sum ;  for  example :  white, 
native-born  of  native  parents ;  plus  white,  of  parents  foreign-born, 
divided  by  two;  plus  white,  foreign-born,  divided  by  four;  plus 
all  colored,  divided  by  eight. 

The  chiefly  important  phenomena  of  society — for  example,  per 
capita  taxation,  per  capita  expenditure  for  schools,  and  a  habitual 
exercise  of  the  political  franchise — are  not  highly  correlated  posi- 
tively or  negatively  with  basic  like-mindedness.  The  meaning  of 
this  extremely  significant  statistical  fact  is  that  alert  and  progres- 
sive social  life  is  associated  not  with  strict  and  exclusive  similarity, 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  257 

or  with  extreme  dissimilarity,  but  with  that  intermediate  degree 
of  mental  and  moral  homogeneity  which  is  an  adequate  meeting  of 
minds  for  practical  purposes  and  yet  is  tolerant  of  individual 
difference  and  dissent. 

The  best  measure  of  radical  like-mindedness  is  the  percentage 
number  of  individuals  of  the  numerically  dominant  color-race 
whose  ages  fall  between  the  limits  twenty  and  thirty-nine  years. 
The  best  measure  of  conservative  like-mindedness  is  the  percent- 
age number  of  individuals  native-born  of  native  parents  whose 
ages  fall  in  the  class  forty  years  and  above.  The  radically  like- 
minded  are  normally  more  numerous  than  the  conservatively 
like-minded  because  they  are  indifferent  (as  the  conservatives 
are  not)  to  the  distinction  "native-born,"  or,  going  a  step  farther, 
"native-born  of  native  parents."  War  tends  to  consolidate  rad- 
icals with  conservatives  and  to  merge  these  measures. 

When  the  stimuli  to  which  living  bodies  react  have  become  a 
circumstantial  pressure,  and  the  resemblances  of  reacting  mechan- 
isms have  become  like-mindedness,  every  social  phenomenon 
thenceforth  and  every  social  situation  is  a  function  of  two  vari- 
ables, namely,  (i)  circumstantial  pressure,  and  (2)  like-minded- 
ness,  each  of  which  varies  under  the  influence  of  the  other,  under 
influences  that  affect  them  differently,  and  under  influences  that 
affect  them  similarly. 

II.    THE  REACTIONS  OF  ASSEMBLED  LIFE 
5.    COMPLEX  PLURALISTIC  RESPONSE 

Simple  pluralistic  behavior  is  complicated  and  developed  by 
interstimulation  and  response.  Each  individual  of  a  group  or 
assemblage  is  a  complex  of  stimuli  to  his  fellows,  and  each  re- 
sponds to  fellow-stimulation. 

The  interstimulation  of  similar  organisms  differs  from  stimula- 
tion otherwise  arising.  It  has  a  distinct  character.  Normally  it 
is  not  repellent.  It  does  not  cause  shrinking,  recoil,  or  retreat. 
The  reactions  also  of  resembling  individuals  to  one  another  are 
significantly  different  from  the  reactions  of  non-resembling  indi- 
viduals to  one  another. 

Organisms  of  like  kind  stimulate  each  other  non-repellently 


258    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

not  only  because,  first,  they  are  similar  complexes  of  stimuli,  and 
because,  secondly,  they  are  similar  complexes  of  reaction,  but  also, 
thirdly  (and  this  is  important),  because  the  behavior  of  one  organ- 
ism a  which  functions  as  stimulation  to  another  organism  of  like 
kind  d  (for  example,  the  caw  of  a  crow,  the  yelp  of  a  dog,  or  the 
whinny  of  a  horse)  normally  calls  forth  from  that  other  a  among 
various  reactions  a  behavior  (there  is  an  answering  caw,  or  yelp, 
or  whinny)  that  is  so  like  the  initial  behavior  of  a  that  it  might 
have  arisen  in  a  by  self -imitation.  Such  interstimulation  cannot 
be  repellent  in  a  high  degree,  although  in  a  degree  it  may  be  antag- 
onistic. Two  dogs  may  bristle  and  fight  on  first  acquaintance, 
but  they  do  not  hasten  to  part  company,  as  the  horse  shies  from 
the  rattlesnake  or  from  the  bumblebee.  The  fight  ends  in  tolera- 
tion or  in  the  submission  of  one  dog  to  the  other. 

Reactions  of  either  similar  or  dissimilar  individuals  to  one 
another  may  be  unconscious  or  may  be  conscious.  Unconscious 
pluralistic  reactions  of  similars  to  one  another  are  factors  of  vari- 
ous herd  instincts  and  of  numerous  herd  habits,  all  of  which 
combine  in  gregariousness. 

The  synthesis  turns  upon  and  proceeds  from  the  distinctive 
peculiarities  of  stimulation  of  kind  by  kind  and  of  reaction  of 
kind  to  kind,  above  set  forth.  The  movements  of  organisms,  like 
the  motions  of  inorganic  bodies,  follow  lines  of  relatively  low 
resistance.  Repellent  stimulation  and  recoiling  reaction  open 
lines  of  relatively  high  resistance.  Non-repellent  stimulation  and 
forthgoing  action  open  lines  of  relatively  low  resistance.  Also 
reactions  to  stimuli  that  resemble  self-stimuli  are  relatively  facile. 
These  reactions  include  automatic  imitations  innumerable.  On 
mechanistic  principles,  therefore,  a  reacting  locomotor  organism 
tends  to  go  toward  or  to  go  with  objects  (including  other  loco- 
motor  organisms)  from  which  non-repellent  or  otherwise  non- 
resistent  stimulation  proceeds. 

In  distinctive  stimulations  of  kind  by  kind,  then,  and  in  char- 
acteristically facile  reactions  to  kind  we  discover  relatively  simple 
mechanistic  factors  of  innate  gregariousness  or  "herd  instinct," 
the  chief  manifestations  of  which  are  a  matter-of-course  tolera- 
tion of  one  another  by  individual  units  of  a  kin  group,  an  auto- 
matic tendency  to  go  with  kind  or  at  least  to  avoid  separation 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  259 

from  kind,  an  automatic  imitation  of  kind,  and  an  unhesitating 
reaction  to  herd  stimulation. 

This  account  of  gregariousness  is  opposed  to  a  commonly 
accepted  one  which  makes  characteristic  reaction  to  kind  a  mani- 
festation of  an  unexplained  herd  instinct,  so  putting  cause  and 
effect  the  other  way  around.1 

In  the  processes  of  interstimulation  and  its  reactions  pluralistic 
behavior  is  dramatized.  Action  which,  in  the  first  instance,  is 
performed  without  reference  to  possible  reaction  by  fellow -beings, 
but  which  in  fact  is  followed  by  fellow-reaction,  is  likely  in  subse- 
quent performance  to  be  affected  thereby.  In  the  presence  of 
fellow-beings  action  becomes  acting,  and  thenceforward  things 
are  not  merely  done,  they  are  enacted. 

Under  common  danger,  and  often  under  common  opportunity, 
similarities  of  behavior  more  or  less  dramatized  develop  into 
spontaneous  collective  action.  The  individuals  participating  in  it 
may  not  be,  or  they  may  be,  aware  that  they  are  combining  their 
efforts ;  and  they  may  not  be,  or  they  may  be,  aware  that  by  com- 
bination they  are  producing  results;  but  whether  conscious  or 
unconscious,  cooperation  commonly  produces  results  advanta- 
geous to  the  individuals  participating  in  it. 

The  probability  of  collective  action  increases  with  circumstantial 
pressure. 

6.    THE  CONSCIOUSNESS  OF  KIND 

In  mankind  interstimulation  and  its  reactions  have  developed 
into  communication  by  means  of  vocal  signs.  Everything  is 
talked  about.  Pluralistic  behavior  having  been  dramatized  is  now 
also  conversationalised. 

Not  only  outward  behavior  and  material  things  are  talked 
about.  "Ideas"  and  "feelings"  as  "states  of  consciousness"  also 
are  talked  about.  Thenceforth  a  conversationalised  consciousness 
and  its  states  may  legitimately  be  included  in  a  study  of  be- 
havior, viewed  as  an  objective  phenomenon. 

Stimulation  and  reaction  are  accompanied  by  sensation.  Dif- 
ferences and  similarities  among  stimuli,  differences  and  similarities 
among  reactions,  are  "felt"  in  consciousness,  and  presently  are 

1  See  William  McDougall,  Social  Psychology,  ch.  xii,  and  W.  Trotter, 
Instincts  of  the  Herd  in  Peace  and  War,  pp.  1-23. 


260    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

perceived.  Differences  and  similarities  among  objects,  among 
the  activities  of  things,  and  among  behavioristic  acts  are  felt  and 
perceived.  Differences  of  individuals  one  from  another  and  sim- 
ilarities of  individuals  one  to  another  also  are  felt  and  perceived. 
The  idea  of  "kind"  arises.  Individuals  become  aware  of  them- 
selves as  a  "kind,"  and  as  being  of  one,  or  of  more  than  one 
"kind."  This  consciousness  in  human  individuals  of  their  differ- 
ences one  from  another,  of  their  similarities  one  to  another,  and 
of  their  "kind"  is  the  "consciousness  of  kind."  More  precisely, 
the  consciousness  of  kind  is  awareness  of  a  concrete  case  or  pos- 
sibility of  like-mindedness,  and  of  such  physical  traits  as  are 
commonly  associated  with  it. 

The  consciousness  of  kind  allays  fear  and  engenders  comrade- 
ship. It  converts  instinctive  consorting  into  a  consciously  dis- 
criminative association.  Without  it  there  is  no  society;  there  is 
only  gregariousness.  Of  the  instinctive  herd  it  may  be  said  as 
Rousseau  said  of  the  state  created  by  force,  "C'est  une  agregation, 
s'il  vous  plait,  mais  c'est  non  pas  une  association."  The  mem- 
bers of  a  society  are  aware  of  themselves  as  preferentially  asso- 
ciating similars.  For  example,  if  they  are  Presbyterians,  Repub- 
licans, and  Americans,  they  consciously  prefer  to  associate  in 
religious  communion  with  Presbyterians  like-minded  with  them- 
selves rather  than  with  Methodists  or  with  Episcopalians;  to 
associate  in  politics  with  Republicans  like-minded  with  themselves 
rather  than  with  Democrats ;  and  to  associate  in  nationality  with 
Americans  like-minded  with  themselves  rather  than  with  the 
people  of  any  European  land.  The  consciousness  of  kind  is  be- 
coming not  less  but  more  potent  in  large  affairs.  Perhaps  the 
greatest  manifestation  of  it  ever  seen  is  the  nation-wide  demand 
in  the  United  States  at  present  for  the  Americanization  of  alien 
residents.  They  must  be  made  like-minded  with  Americans. 

Odd  as  it  may  seem  to  the  uninitiated,  the  statistical  study  of 
the  consciousness  of  kind  to  the  extent  of  obtaining  excellent 
measurements  of  it,  on  either  a  small  or  a  large  scale,  is  not  diffi- 
cult. The  data  are  frequency-distributions  of  preferences.  The 
curves  which  these  approximately  fit  are  in  form  like  the  familiar 
curves  of  utility,  demand,  and  price. 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  261 

7.    CONCERTED  VOLITION 

In  the  course  of  pluralistic  behavior  above  the  instinctive  level 
conscious  agreements  arise.  Propositions  are  put  forth  and  are 
"talked  over."  There  begins  to  be  "a  meeting  of  minds."  Col- 
lective choices  or  decisions  are  made.  There  is  a  concert  of  wills, 
a  concerted  volition. 

Like  the  volition  of  an  individual,  concerted  volition  is  of 
various  degrees  of  completeness.  There  may  be  only  an  incipient 
impulse,  that  dies  out  before  behavior  is  visibly  affected  and  that 
is  known  in  consciousness  only  as  an  unexpressed  choice  or  per- 
haps only  as  a  wish.  Or  there  may  be  a  consciously  apprehended 
decision,  which  is  expressed  in  words  or  in  gestures  or  through 
other  media.  As  the  vote  of  a  committee  or  of  an  assembly  or, 
on  a  larger  scale,  as  a  political  election,  concerted  decision  ex- 
pressed in  words  is  an  important  behavior.  Finally,  concerted 
will  may  be  expressed  in  collective  action,  brief  or  persisting. 

In  a  normal  population  there  are  individuals  of  every  grade  of 
mentality,  and  more  individuals  of  each  intermediate  grade  than 
of  the  lowest  or  of  the  highest.  Inasmuch,  however,  as  all  highly 
reflective  individuals  are  also  dogmatic,  sympathetic,  and  instinc- 
tive, and  all  dogmatic  individuals  are  also  emotional  and  instinc- 
tive, and  all  emotional  individuals  are  also  instinctive,  there  are 
always  in  a  normal  aggregation  more  individuals  that  are  alike 
in  motor  reactions  and  in  appetites  than  are  alike  in  sympathies, 
more  who  are  alike  in  sympathies  than  are  alike  in  beliefs,  and 
more  who  are  alike  in  beliefs  than  are  alike  in  critical  intelligence. 

From  these  facts  a  law  of  concerted  volition  follows,  namely: 

In  a  normal  population  the  percentage  number  of  individuals 
participating  in  a  collective  decision  diminishes  as  the  intellectual 
quality  of  the  decision  rises.1 

This  law  does  not  mean  that  "the  intellectuals"  and  the 
"masses"  cannot  get  together.  They  can  and  do  concur  for  prac- 
tical purposes,  but  only  as  one  element  yields  to  the  other.  The 
masses  may  "believe"  that  it  is  expedient  to  follow  a  lead  that  they 
do  not  understand  but  do  trust ;  or  the  intellectuals  may  compro- 

1  In  New  York  City  the  East  Side  vote  on  constitutional  amendments 
is  light.  The  heavy  vote  is  in  the  election  districts  of  Greenwich  Village, 
Morningside  Heights,  and  Washington  Heights. 


262     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

mise  with  a  crowd  that  stubbornly  holds  an  antagonistic  belief. 
Conviction  of  the  expediency  of  yielding,  trusting,  or  compro- 
mising strengthens  and  extends  as  circumstantial  pressure 
increases. 

Circumstantial  pressure  determines  the  amount  of  concerted 
volition  in  an  aggregation  in  any  respect  heterogeneous.  In  a 
homogeneous  group,  a  majority  of  all  individuals  may  alike  react 
to  varied  stimuli,  and  the  stimuli  are  not  necessarily  powerful.  In 
the  heterogeneous  group  a  majority  of  all  individuals  can  react  in 
identical  or  resembling  ways  to  but  few  stimuli,  and  these  must  be 
powerful ;  but  the  more  powerful  they  are,  the  larger  will  be  the 
absolute  and  the  percentage  number  of  individuals  in  like  manner 
reacting  to  them.  This  law  holds  good  of  conscious  decisions  as 
of  instinctive  acts. 

If  one  hundred  or  more  persons  vote  "yes"  or  "no"  on  each  of 
twenty-five  or  more  propositions,  and  the  number  of  "yes"  votes 
for  two  propositions,  for  three,  for  four,  for  five,  and  so  on,  is 
plotted,  the  resulting  frequency-distribution  is  a  skew,  whether 
the  voting  group  is  homogeneous  or  heterogeneous.  In  many  ex- 
periments I  have  not  obtained  a  "normal"  (or  "chance")  distri- 
bution. Into  the  "infinite  number  of  small  causes"  operative  in 
politics  and  in  legislation  a  few  big  influences  intrude;  which 
means  that  great  interests  always  can  be  and  always  are  manipu- 
lated by  the  purposive  will  of  man.  The  proposition  means, 
further,  that  for  great  historical  calamities,  like  wars,  a  few 
individuals  are  morally  responsible.  Statisticial  sociology  affords 
no  basis  for  historical  fatalism. 

Concerted  volition  working  itself  out  in  combined  action  is 
a  conscious  and  reasoned  cooperation,  a  pluralistic  behavior  in 
which  like  activities  or  complementary  activities  are  correlated 
and  directed  upon  a  useful  achievement  through  conscious  plan- 
ning. 

8.    SOCIETY 

The  commingling  and  the  pluralistic  activities  of  individuals 
who  are  conscious  of  themselves  and  of  their  behavior,  and  whose 
consciousness  is  conversationalized,  is  association. 

The  consciousness  of  kind,  becoming  sensitive  especially  to 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  263 

resemblances  and  differences  that  please  or  displease,  converts 
association  into  society,  in  the  elementary  sense  of  the  word. 
The  associating  unit  -becomes  the  socius,  loving  and  seeking  ac- 
quaintance, forming  friendships  and  alliances  with  other  socii  like 
himself,  imitating  them  and  setting  examples  for  them,  teaching 
them  and  learning  from  them,  and  engaging  with  them  in  many 
forms  of  common  activity.  Every  human  being  is  at  once  an 
animal,  a  conscious  individual  mind,  and  a  socius. 

Association  takes  on  the  quality  and  the  color  of  the  prevailing 
like-mindedness,  which  may  be  ideo-instinctive  only,  and  charged 
with  suggestibility;  or  sympathetic,  explosive  with  contagious 
emotion  and  undisciplined  imagination;  or  dogmatic,  compact  of 
uncritically  accepted  beliefs;  or  reflective,  wherein  belief  is  dis- 
placed by  knowledge  and  by  judgments  based  on  evidence.  The 
concerted  behavior  of  associates,  therefore,  may  be  a  turbulent 
"direct  action"  or  an  orderly  procedure. 

Reacting  to  circumstantial  pressure,  association  generates  a 
social  pressure,  which  increases  with  the  multiplication  of  like 
responses  to  common  stimulations,  as  the  pressure  of  a  gas  in- 
creases with  the  number  and  the  velocity  of  its  molecules. 

Reacting  in  its  turn  upon  the  pluralistic  behaviors  that  have 
created  it,  social  pressure  assembles  and  combines  them  in  new 
products,  through  which  it  distributes  itself.  The  reacting  indi- 
viduals it  constrains  to  type  conformity. 

Subjected  to  social  pressure,  pluralistic  behavior  of  any  kind 
may  become  habitual.  It  may  be  imitated  by  one  group  from 
another.  It  may  be  learned  by  one  generation  from  another. 
The  accompanying  ideas,  histories,  explanations,  and  instructions 
are  transmitted  from  group  to  group,  and  from  one  to  another 
generation  in  "talk."  They  become  folklore.  To  the  countless 
cooperations  and  other  pluralistic  behaviors  that  "everybody" 
participates  in  and  that  continue  through  generations,  Sumner 
gave  the  appropriate  name  "folkways,"  which  immediately  found 
place  in  sociology  and  soon  became  a  folk  noun. 

Folklore  and  folkways  are  comprehensive.  There  is  no  phase 
of  the  struggle  for  existence  that  they  do  not  enter  into  and  more 
or  less  affect. 

In  its  original  mode  social  pressure  is  not  consciously  willed. 


264    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

It  is  not  planned  or  intended.  It  is  only  an  inevitably  arising 
product  (or  by-product)  of  pluralistic  behavior. 

But  having,  as  a  force  devoid  of  intent,  created  folkways, 
social  pressure,  elemental  yet,  converts  folkways  into  mores  and 
themistes,  which  in  turn  distribute  and  apply  social  pressure  and 
through  these  reactions  develop  it  into  an  intended,  planned,  and 
consciously  concerted  pressure. 

Mores  are  folkways  that  have  been  selectively  affected  by  emo- 
tion, belief,  reflection,  and  conscious  inculcation,  and  that  to 
some  extent  are  socially  enforced.  Like  primary  folkways  the 
mores,  chiefly  by  penalties  of  disapprobation  and  neglect,  bear  on 
individuals  as  such  and  primarily  with  reference  to  their  own  well- 
being  ;  but  also  they  are  thought  of  and  are  made  to  serve  as  media 
of  social  pressure  affecting  fellow-beings.  The  sanctions  that 
enforce  them  are  informal,  but  may  include  the  use  of  force  in 
private  vengeance. 

Themistes  are  important  mores,  of  religion,  for  example,  and 
above  all,  of  justice.  They  are  mores  of  concerted  volition  and 
apply  social  pressure  through  boycotting,  outlawry,  and  other 
social  dooms,  including  death.1 

In  mores  and  themistes  under  the  reactions  of  the  social  pres- 
sure which  they  themselves  gather  and  distribute,  pluralistic 
behavior  is  traditionalized. 

Folkways  of  every  kind,  including  mores  and  themistes,  are  the 
most  stable  syntheses  of  pluralistic  behavior ;  yet  they  are  not  un- 
changing. Under  new  and  widening  experience  they  suffer 
attrition  and  are  modified.2  Instincts,  and  with  them  emotion, 

1  See  Jane  Ellen  Harrison,  Themis. 

3  Numerous  ballotings  on  hypothetical  candidates  for  admission  to  social 
organizations  have  been  taken  at  my  request  in  colleges,  merchants'  asso- 
ciations, and  labor  organizations.  The  grounds  of  exclusion  are  offenses 
against  morals  and  manners  and  certain  personal  matters.  They  are 
named  in  a  list  of  twenty-seven  items  made  in  advance  and  submitted 
to  the  voters.  The  method  of  proceeding  has  been  carefully  explained 
and  controlled.  More  than  50  per  cent  of  the  voters  blackball  for  noto- 
rious cruelty,  dishonesty,  frequent  drunkenness,  gambling,  sexual  immo- 
rality, and  personal  uncleanliness  of  body  and  dress.  Less  than  50  per 
cent  of  the  voters  blackball  for  habitual  borrowing  of  money  from 
acquaintances,  ungrammatical  speech,  atheism,  inability  to  write  a  cor- 
rectly worded  letter,  questionable  political  affiliations,  and  shabby  dress. 
Notorious  cruelty  is  the  vice  most  objected  to  by  both  men  and  women. 
Dishonesty  ranks  second  in  offensiveness  to  men  and  sixth  to  women. 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  265 

and  imagination,  which  largely  fills  the  vast  realm  between  in- 
stinct and  reason,  are  reconditioned.  The  word  means  simply 
that  reflexes  and  higher  processes  subjected  to  new  experiences 
are  in  a  degree  or  entirely  detached  from  old  stimuli  and  associated 
with  new  ones.1 

From  time  to  time  also  traditions  are  invaded  and  habits  are 
broken  down  by  crisis.  Pluralistic  behavior  then  is  scrutinized, 
criticized,  estimated,  discussed.  It  is  rationally  deliberated. 

Viewed  broadly  as  reaction  instead  of  strictly  as  reflection, 
deliberation  arises  in  the  individual  mind  as  a  conflict  of  reactions 
to  stimulation.  On  the  larger  scale  of  social  phenomena  delibera- 
tion arises  when  there  are  conflicting  group  or  class  reactions  to 
a  common  stimulation. 

Therefore  the  probability  of  deliberation  in  a  social  population 
increases  with  the  multiplication  of  groups  that  react  differently 
to  a  common  stimulation  and  with  the  approximation  of  the  dif- 
fering groups  to  numerical  equality. 

The  members  of  a  group  in  which  pluralistic  behavior  is  both 
traditionalized  and  deliberated  talk  much  about  the  group  as  a 
group,  and  of  their  membership  relation  to  it.  They  converse 
about  their  common  lot — of  danger  or  opportunity.  They  profess 
to  think  about  common  interests,  to  care  for  group  performance 
and  achievement,  and  to  be  sensitive  to  group  prestige. 

There  is,  accordingly,  a  complex  of  pluralistic  behavior  facts 
which  includes  common  situation  and  common  stimulation, 
similarity  of  reaction,  a  consciousness  of  kind,  cooperation,  tra- 
dition, discussion,  a  proclaimed  concern  for  the  group,  and  sensi- 
tiveness to  its  prestige.  This  complex  is  the  social  solidarity. 

Otherwise  named,  the  social  solidarity  is  the  social  mind.  This 
name  does  not  denote  any  other  consciousness  than  that  of  indi- 

Frequent  drunkenness  ranks  second  in  offensiveness  to  women  and  thir- 
teenth to  men.  More  men  than  women  object  to  personal  uncleanliness 
of  body  and  dress. 

1 A  piece  of  meat  in  a  dog's  mouth  causes  a  flow  of  saliva.  A  Russian 
psychologist,  Pawlow,  tried  the  experiment  of  tinkling  a  bell  when  the 
dog  was  fed.  In  course  of  time  the  tinkling  of  the  bell  without  the 
presence  of  the  meat  called  forth  the  reflex  and  produced  the  salivation 
(Robert  Sessions  Woodworth,  Dynamic  Psychology,  p.  82).  Hundreds 
of  similar  experiments  suggested  by  Pawlow's  have  demonstrated  that 
simple  reflexes  and  elementary  instincts  can  be  reconditioned,  practically 
at  will.  This  possibility  is  the  basis  of  our  power  to  learn. 


266    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

vidual  minds ;  it  does  denote  a  consciousness  of  individual  minds 
similarly  reacting,  and  reacting  in  reference  to  and  upon  one 
another.  The  social  mind  is  the  phenomenon  of  individual  minds 
in  communication  with  one  another,  acting  upon  one  another,  and 
acting  concurrently.  The  self-consciousness  of  a  class  or  of  a 
group  is  the  consciousness  of  each  individual  that  there  is  a  group, 
that  he  is  a  member  of  the  group,  and  that  the  other  members  of 
the  group  are  feeling  toward  it  as  he  feels,  and  thinking  of  it  as  he 
thinks. 

The  decision  of  the  social  mind  is  social  purpose.  The  momen- 
tum of  the  social  solidarity  is  a  consciously  controlled  social 
pressure  of  almost  irresistible  power.  It  may  constrain  pluralistic 
behavior  and  curtail  individual  liberty  to  any  degree.  The  indi- 
vidual himself  it  both  constrains  and  disciplines.  It  makes  the 
many  individuals  upon  whom  it  bears  increasingly  alike  in  nurture 
and  in  habits.  It  produces  conformity  to  a  type. 

The  degree  or  intensity  of  social  constraint,  however,  is  not 
determined  by  reasoned  choice.  It  is  governed  by  circumstantial 
pressure,  to  which  it  is  elastic.  When  we  entered  into  the 
European  war  many  timid  souls  feared  that  we  should  lose  our 
liberties.  They  believed  that  we  should  become  militaristic  and 
Prussianized.  They  were  right  in  part  but  largely  they  were 
wrong.  The  war  restricted  liberty,  as  the  Civil  War  did.  Peace 
removes  restraints  as  it  did  after  1865.  And  war  is  not  the  only 
circumstantial  pressure  that  limits  liberty.  Herbert  Spencer  was 
right  in  his  insistence  upon  the  constraining  effect  of  war,  but  he 
did  not  adequately  measure  the  importance  of  other  circumstances 
that  also  curtail  freedom.  To  mention  one  of  recent  occurrence, 
when  infantile  paralysis  became  epidemic  in  1916,  hundreds  of 
American  towns  and  cities  established  local  quarantines.  Guards 
stationed  on  highways  stopped  and  searched  automobiles,  and 
suspicious  parties  were  turned  back.  Furthermore,  the  social 
pressure  through  which  circumstantial  pressure  constrains  is  not 
only  political  and  legal  and  brought  to  bear  by  government;  it 
appears  and  develops  also  as  a  spontaneous  pluralistic  action,  un- 
organized at  first  but  tending  to  become  organized.  For  example, 
the  modes  that  it  has  assumed  in  money-raising  drives  are  numer- 
ous and  many  of  them  are  highly  coercive. 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  267 

Society  not  only  constrains  its  members,  but  also  by  disciplining 
them  and  forcing  them  to  conform  to  type  it  selects,  conserving 
some  and  rejecting  others. 

Biology  unaided  by  sociology  cannot  show  where,  when,  or  how 
the  "better"  may  be  the  "fit"  that  survive.  Darwin  saw  the  prob- 
lem and  its  solution,  but  he  did  not  work  it  out.1 

Society  favors  individual  units  that  have  team-work  value  and 
directs  its  adverse  pressures  upon  units  that  obstruct  or  imperil 
the  collective  struggle. 

Tolerance,  sympathy,  and  intelligence  have  team-work  value  in 
a  preeminent  degree  and,  therefore,  survival  value  in  a  preeminent 
degree,  in  society. 

Society,  therefore,  converts  the  "survival  of  the  fit"  into  the 
survival  of  the  "better,"  if  by  the  "fit"  we  mean  individuals  who 
by  organization  and  instinct  are  adapted  to  a  situation  as  nature 
has  made  it,  and  by  "better"  we  mean  individuals  who  by  feeling 
and  intelligence  are  adapted  to  a  situation  modified  and  being 
modified  by  combined  effort  guided  by  reflection. 

How  much  the  social  community  may  achieve,  transforming  the 
"fit"  into  the  "better"  and,  in  its  pursuit  of  happiness,  obtaining 
substantial  results,  is  a  problem  in  the  utilization  of  energy. 

The  strength,  or  potential  energy,  of  a  group  is  the  product  of 
the  number  of  individuals  composing  it,  by  various  weighting 
coefficients,  among  which  are  vigor,  intelligence,  and  knowledge. 

The  working  efficiency  of  a  group  of  given  strength  is  a  func- 
tion of  certain  arrangements  which  may  have  had  an  accidental 
origin,  which  in  part  are  products  of  a  merely  random  experi- 
mentation, but  which  in  a  large  and  always  increasing  measure 
are  brought  about  intentionally  by  superior  individuals. 

These  arrangements  are  the  social  organization. 

III.     THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  COLLECTIVE  INTERESTS2 
9.    PROTOCRACY 

Not  all  individuals  react  to  a  given  stimulation  with  equal 
promptness,  or  completeness,  or  persistence.  Therefore  in  every 

1  The  Descent  of  Man,  chs.  iii,  iv,  v. 

2Gustav  Ratzenhofer  and  Albion  W.  Small,  who  has  interpreted  him 
to  the  English-speaking  public,  have  most  fully  discussed  the  general 
aspects  of  "interests." 


268     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

situation  there  are  individuals  that  react  more  effectively  than 
others  do.  They  reinforce  the  original  stimulation  and  play  a 
major  part  in  interstimulation.  They  initiate  and  take  respon- 
sibility. They  lead :  they  conduct  experiments  in  a  more  or  less 
systematic  fashion. 

Those  individuals  that  react  most  effectively  command  the 
situation  and  create  new  situations  to  which  other  individuals  must 
adjust  themselves.  Few  or  many,  the  alert  and  effective  are  a 
protocracy:  a  dominating  plurel  from  which  ruling  classes  are 
derived.  Protocracy  is  always  with  us.  We  let  George  do  it, 
and  George  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  "does"  us. 

Where  two  or  three  in  quick  or  daring  reaction  are  gathered 
together  to  "start  something" — a  dance  or  a  revolution,  or  any- 
thing between — there  is  protocracy,  and  it  gathers  power  if  the 
enterprise  succeeds;  for  then  protocracy  recognizes  or  ignores, 
gives  out  invitations  or  denies  them,  opens  or  bars  opportunity, 
protects  or  attacks,  rewards  or  punishes,  and  so  surrounds  itself 
with  beneficiaries  and  retainers  through  which  it  works  its  will. 

Protocracy  may  owe  authority  and  power  to  the  majority 
that  it  dominates,  but  it  has  obtained  them  and  it  holds  them 
by  psychological  ascendancy.1  The  majority  may  withdraw  au- 
thority and  power  from  a  protocracy  that  it  has  trusted,  but  only 
if  another  and  rival  protocracy  arises  and  becomes  ascendant. 

Domination  may  amount  to  rule  or  it  may  not  get  beyond 
leadership  and  direction. 

Rule  may  be  imposed  and  maintained  by  force,  or  by  inspiring 
fear,  or  through  purchase,  bribery,  or  bestowal  of  favors.  The 
protocracy  has  advanced  knowledge  of  opportunities,  and  is  in  a 
position  to  dispense  offices  and  perquisites.  If  it  does  not  actually 
rule,  it  dominates  by  winning  the  uncoerced  and  unbought  ap- 
proval of  the  mass,  often  through  a  manifestation  of  ability, 
integrity,  or  beneficent  purpose.  The  methods  of  minority  domi- 
nation are  commonly  found  in  combination,  but  the  proportions 
are  variable. 

The  concentration  of  controlling  power  in  society  is  a  function 
(in  the  mathematician's  sense  of  the  word)  of  the  behavioristic 

'We  owe  to  Edward  Alsworth  Ross  the  significant  technical  connota- 
tions of  this  word  in  sociology. 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  269 

solidarity.  The  more  homogeneous  the  behavior  and  the  greater 
the  like-mindedness,  the  broader  is  the  basis  of  protocratic  domi- 
nation and  the  less  autocratic  is  its  authority. 

The  degree  of  domination  and  the  extent  and  the  rigor  of  con- 
trol are  functions  of  circumstantial  pressure. 

10.    THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  RELATIONS 

The  more  or  less  definite  arrangements  of  position  and  of 
activity  into  which  individuals  fall  in  the  collective  struggle  for 
existence  are  shaped  at  first  by  a  hit-or-miss  trial  of  possibilities 
that  amounts  to  little  more  than  a  haphazard  "fitting  in."  In 
the  long  run  they  are  shaped  by  a  thought-out  trial  and  correction 
proposed  and  systematized  by  protocratic  minorities.  Ultimately, 
after  much  experimenting  and  with  frequent  reconsideration,  they 
are  approved  by  the  social  mind  expressing  its  will  through  major- 
ities. So  arising  and  established,  arrangements  of  individual 
position  and  of  individual  activity  are  a  mechanism  through  which 
social  reactions  work  aggressively,  defensively,  productively,  and 
with  controlling  incidence. 

Described  concretely,  the  social  mechanism  is  a  social  com- 
position, a  product  of  integration;  and  a  social  constitution,  a 
product  of  differentiation. 

The  smallest  and  simplest  arrangement  of  individuals  by  posi- 
tion is  the  "bunch."  It  may  be  a  genetic  product,  its  units  having 
been  born  into  proximity,  or  it  may  be  a  casual  assemblage.  A 
relatively  large  bunch  or  a  cluster  of  bunches,  especially  if  identi- 
fied with  a  place  or  region,  is  a  group. 

The  smallest  and  simplest  arrangement  by  activity  of  individuals 
that  go  or  work  or  play  together  is  the  "gang."  It  is  a  product  of 
like  reaction  by  nervous  mechanisms  that  are  alike  in  a  specific  (or 
differential)  way.  They  have  the  same  specific  aptitude  or 
interest. 

They  are  a  "gang,"  however,  only  if,  reacting  to  a  common 
stimulation  or  necessity,  they  "carry  on"  together. 

Whether  assembled  or  scattered,  going  in  gangs  or  not,  indi- 
viduals of  like  aptitude  and  interest  and  therefore  functioning  in 
like  fashion  are  a  class.  As  an  observed  fact,  a  class  is  usually 
made  up  of  both  gangs  and  isolated  individuals. 


270    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

In  the  creation  of  bunch  or  gang,  of  group  or  class,  alert  leader- 
ship plays  an  essential  part.  In  every  group  and  in  every  class 
there  is  a  dominating  protocracy. 

By  combination  and  recombination  groups  become  the  social 
composition. 

Sex  mating  and  the  birth  of  children  create  families.  Numer- 
ous families  hold  or  drift  together  in  residential  relations ;  others 
drift  apart.  Those  that  hold  together  compose  the  horde  (of 
savage  men)  or  the  village  (of  civilized  men).  Hordes  combine 
in  tribes,  and  tribes  in  tribal  federations :  the  ethnic  series.  Vil- 
lages grow  into  towns,  and  towns  into  cities.  Towns  or  cities 
compose  provinces,  departments,  or  commonwealths,  and  com- 
monwealths hold  together  in  federal  nations :  the  demotic  series. 

Ethnic  societies  are  genetic  aggregations.  Either  a  sacred 
power  or  "mana"  manifest  in  totem  and  regarded  in  taboo  or  a 
real  or  a  fictitious  blood  kinship  is  their  chief  social  bond.  They 
are  otherwise  known  as  tribal  societies  and  they  include  all  com- 
munities of  uncivilized  races  which  maintain  a  tribal  organization. 
They  are  of  two  general  types,  namely,  the  matronymic,  or  matri- 
linear,  in  which  names  and  relationships  are  traced  in  the  mother- 
line,  and  the  patronymic,  or  patrilinear,  in  which  names  and 
relationships  are  traced  in  the  father-line.  Demotic  societies, 
otherwise  known  as  civil  societies,  are  products  in  some  degree  of 
genetic  aggregation,  but  they  are  largely  congregate  associations. 
They  are  groups  of  individuals  that  are  bound  together  by  habitual 
intercourse,  mutual  interests,  and  cooperation.  They  emphasize 
their  mental  and  moral  resemblance  and  give  little  heed  to  origins 
or  to  genetic  relationships. 

The  evolution  of  the  social  composition  has  been  a  double 
process.  As  small  groups  have  combined  into  larger  ones,  they 
also  have  subdivided  into  smaller  ones.  The  unit  of  composition 
has  become  both  smaller  and  more  definite. 

When  small  hordes  combined  to  form  tribes,  they  commonly 
at  the  same  time  subdivided  into  polyandrian  families.  When 
tribes,  in  their  turn,  banded  together  in  confederations,  the  poly- 
andrian household  underwent  changes  which  converted  it  into  the 
patriarchal  kindred  or  compound  family.  Later  on,  when  federa- 
tions of  tribes  became  the  political  state,  the  compound  family 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  271 

broke  up  into  single  families,  each  consisting  of  father  and  mother 
and  their  immediate  children,  but  no  longer  including,  as  in  the 
patriarchal  kindred,  married  children  and  grandchildren.  Each 
family  remained,  however,  an  industrial  unit,  parents  and  children 
earning  livelihood  together,  and  each  in  a  large  proportion  of 
states  remained  legally  indissoluble. 

Now,  when  political  nations  are  combining  into  world-empires, 
the  single  family,  like  its  predecessors,  has  ceased  to  be  an 
industrial  unit,  and  has  nearly  everywhere  become  legally  dis- 
soluble. More  and  more  it  depends  for  its  integrity  on  unforced 
personal  choice.  Human  society  is  becoming  humanity,  and  its 
unit  is  no  longer  the  legally  indissoluble  family  but  is  the  freely 
choosing  individual. 

At  every  step  in  this  long  developmental  process,  three  things 
have  happened.  The  dominant  social  group  has  entered  as  a  com- 
ponent into  a  larger  social  grouping.  The  smallest  social  group 
has  subdivided,  thereby  establishing  a  new  social  unit.  The  inter- 
mediate social  groups,  losing  their  identity,  have  tended  to  atrophy 
and  in  many  instances  have  disappeared. 

At  every  step  in  the  evolution  protocratic  example  or  proposal 
has  incited  or  restrained  and  protocratic  intelligence  has  directed. 

Gangs  and  classes  by  multiplication  and  increasing  interde- 
pendence following  upon  increasing  specialization  become  the 
social  constitution,  a  scheme  of  working  or  otherwise  functioning 
arrangements  which  makes  a  cross-classification  with  the  resi- 
dential arrangements  of  the  social  composition.  Familiar  exam- 
ples of  working  arrangements  become  too  dignified  to  be  called 
"gangs,"  except  for  purposes  of  scientific  analysis  (although  that 
is  what  in  strict  scientific  analysis  they  are)  and  making  number- 
less cross-classifications  with  residential  groupings  are,  business 
partnerships  and  corporations,  political  parties,  churches,  philan- 
thropic societies,  schools,  universities,  and  scientific  associations, 
social  clubs,  and  societies  for  recreation  and  pleasure. 

Each  of  these  associations  is  obliged  to  exchange  services  or 
products  with  others.  It  could  not  otherwise  exist.  The  function- 
ing of  all  of  them  in  their  several  ways  is  the  social  (including  the 
economic)  division  of  labor.  Interdependence  increases  with 
every  new  specialization  in  skill  and  in  occupation.  Because  of 


272     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

their  interdependence  they  are  accurately  described  as  constituent 
societies. 

Inasmuch  as  the  constituent  society  has  a  defined  object  in 
view  it  is  purposive  in  character.  Its  members  are  supposed  to  be 
aware  of  its  object  and  to  put  forth  effort  for  its  attainment. 

Purposive  grouping,  therefore,  may  be  described  as  functional 
association,  and  the  mutual  aid  of  purposive  associations  is  not 
limited  to  a  mere  increase  of  mass  and  power,  as  is  the  mutual  aid 
of  component  society.  It  is  effected  also  through  an  advantageous 
division  of  labor. 

Psychologically  the  social  constitution  is  an  almost  precise 
opposite  of  the  social  composition.  Component  societies  require 
mental  and  moral  like-mindedness,  but  within  the  limits  of  a 
common  morality  there  may  be  no  insistence  upon  any  one  point 
of  similarity  as  long  as  the  aggregate  of  resemblances  remains 
large  and  varied.  Subject  to  these  conditions,  the  differences 
among  the  members  of  a  component  society  may  be  of  any  imagi- 
nable kind.  The  social  constitution,  on  the  contrary,  is  an  alli- 
ance, within  each  simple  association,  of  individuals  who  in  respect 
of  the  purpose  of  the  association  must  be  mentally  and  morally 
alike,  but  who  in  all  other  respects  may  be  unlike ;  supplemented, 
in  the  relations  of  associations  to  one  another  and  to  integral 
society,  by  toleration  and  by  correlation  of  the  unlike. 

As  the  social  constitution  develops,  the  membership  of  con- 
stituent societies  falls  into  hierarchical  arrangements,  thereby 
creating  new  complexities.  Priests,  bishops,  archbishops,  and 
cardinals  in  the  church ;  teachers,  principals,  and  superintendents 
in  the  schools,  are  examples.  In  more  technical  words,  through- 
out the  social  constitution  there  may  be  observed  superordination 
(superiority  of  rank),  coordination  (equality  of  rank),  and 
subordination  (inferiority  of  rank).  The  one  word  "coordina- 
tion" is  commonly  used  to  designate  the  phenomena  of  subordina- 
tion, coordination  and  superordination,  in  their  totality. 

Correlations  and  coordinations  are  products  of  relations  of 
units  to  one  another  and  of  modes  of  activity  that  are  unchanging, 
or  nearly  so.  They  are  static  phenomena  of  structure.  But  the 
activities  of  social  as  of  plant  or  animal  units  are  not  without 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  273 

exception  or  always  unchanging.  There  are  adjustments  and 
adaptations  in  crises  as  well  as  in  tranquil  circumstances. 

Activities  of  adaptation  and  of  adjustment  involve  points  of 
contact  (the  neurons  ramifying  in  a  bit  of  muscle  are  a  good 
example)  and  actual  contact.  They  involve  lines  of  communica- 
tion and  arteries  of  transmission,  and  actual  communications  and 
transmissions.  They  involve  central  or  focal  points  of  accumula- 
tion and  distribution,  and  actual  centralizings  and  decentralizings, 
storings,  and  distributions  of  materials  and  energies. 

Corresponding  to  the  morphological  aspect  of  arrangements  is 
the  functional  aspect.  Through  accumulation  and  distribution, 
through  correlation  and  coordination,  activities  go  on  in  an  or- 
derly and  measured  way.  Even  the  increase  and  the  decrease 
of  intensity,  the  enlargement  or  the  diminution  of  volume,  the 
swifter  or  the  slower  rate,  are  facts  of  order  and  measure ;  they 
are  facts  of  control. 

When  spontaneously  formed  relations  and  thought-out  arrange- 
ments devised  by  protocracy  have  become  so  well  established  that 
they  challenge  the  attention  of  all  members  of  the  community, 
they  become  subjects  of  common  discussion  and  of  general  ap- 
proval or  disapproval.  Subjected  then  to  analysis  and  criticism, 
and  finally  by  concurrent  opinion  pronounced  good,  evil,  or  doubt- 
ful, they  are  thenceforth  tolerated  and  their  development  is  en- 
couraged, or  they  are  discouraged  or  even  stamped  out  by  a 
concerted  action  more  general  than  that  which  created  them. 

Described  abstractly,  therefore,  the  social  mechanism  is  a 
correlation  and  a  coordination  of  socially  reacting  units. 

Both  as  correlation  and  as  coordination  the  social  composition 
and  the  social  constitution  develop  with  increasing  necessity  for 
collective  action.  Under  this  necessity  organization  becomes  more 
extended  and  more  hierarchical. 

Yet  mere  intensity  of  the  struggle  for  existence  does  not  develop 
complexity  of  organization  as  long  as  the  struggle  can  be  carried 
on  by  individual  effort  or  by  small  independent  groups.  Perhaps 
nowhere  in  the  world  is  the  life  of  a  population  subsisting  by  agri- 
culture harder  than  in  China,  yet  the  agricultural  population  there 
is  relatively  unorganized.  By  individual  effort,  unremitting  and 


274    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

intense,  the  individual  applying  himself  to  labor  on  the  land  has 
been  able  to  wrest  from  it  a  meager  living. 

Any  social  group,  component  or  constituent,  may  be  a  privileged 
and  closed  group,  or  a  selectively  open  group,  or  an  indiscrimi- 
nately open  group. 

Eligibility  to  membership  in  a  privileged  and  closed  group  is 
governed  by  consideration  of  source.  Descent  from  members  of 
the  group  in  a  former  generation  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  best- 
known  requirements.  Membership  in  an  antecedent  group  or 
category  may  be  the  requirement:  an  example  from  modern 
industry  is  the  closed-shop  requirement  of  membership  in  an 
orthodox  labor  union. 

Eligibility  to  membership  in  the  selectively  open  group  is 
determined  by  the  functioning  value  of  members  individually  for 
the  functioning  of  the  group  collectively. 

In  the  indiscriminately  open  group  there  are  no  eligibility  tests. 

Increasing  circumstantial  pressure  substitutes  closed  or  select- 
ive groups  for  indiscriminately  open  groups ;  a  phenomenon  which 
always  appears  during  war,  in  periods  of  religious  enthusiasm, 
and  in  times  of  industrial  strife. 

The  social  organization  may  become  flexible  while  developing 
strength  and  stability.  When  circumstantial  pressure  is  not  more 
intense  than  it  is  in  modern  times  in  days  of  peace,  the  individual 
can  go  freely  from  occupation  to  occupation.  He  can  dissolve  a 
partnership  and  enter  into  another.  He  can  be  a  director  in  one 
and  another  corporation  this  year  and  in  entirely  different  ones 
next  year.  He  can  move  freely  from  township  to  township,  from 
city  to  city,  and  from  state  to  state.  He  can  leave  his  church  or 
his  political  party  at  will. 

Yet  the  social  constitution  does  not  suffer.  The  organization 
that  loses  certain  individuals  from  its  membership  gains  others  in 
their  place.  Like  organs  of  the  living  body,  each  is  composed  of 
changing  units,  yet  each  maintains  its  integrity  as  a  whole  and  per- 
forms its  function  without  interruption. 

From  this  plasticity  and  mobility  two  great  advantages  arise. 
Sooner  or  later  individuals  find  the  place  where  their  maximum 
efficiency  as  contributors  to  the  social  well-being  is  realized.  And 
at  all  times  an  increase  of  working  force  can  be  secured  at  any 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  275 

point  in  the  social  system  where  the  demand  is  exceptionally  great, 
by  withdrawing  units  from  points  where  the  demand  is  for  the 
time  being  relatively  small. 

ii.    THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  ACTION 

Woodworth's  clarifying  generalization  that  all  the  phenomena 
of  the  individual  mind  may  be  assigned  to  one  or  the  other  of  the 
two  categories,  "mechanisms"  and  "drives,"  1  is  applicable  also  in 
the  psychology  of  society.  The  organization  of  social  relations  is 
a  mechanism,  as  has  been  shown.  The  organization  of  action  is 
a  correlation  and  coordination  of  drives,  and  the  product  is  a 
procedure.  Collective  struggle  tends  to  become  an  orderly  pro- 
cedure. 

Wherever  behavioristic  groups  are  found,  collective  struggles 
are  seen  to  fall  into  one  or  the  other  of  two  series  of  drives.  There 
are  conflicts  of  group  with  group,  inter-group  conflicts ;  and  within 
each  group  there  are  conflicts  of  faction  with  faction,  intra-group 
conflicts. 

Both  component  and  composite  groups — hordes,  tribes,  towns, 
and  nations — contend  with  one  another  for  possession  and  control 
of  advantageous  regions.  From  the  moment  that  increasing  popu- 
lations begin  to  press  upon  food-producing  resources,  there  is  a 
struggle  for  dominion  and  subsistence.  Hungry  populations 
throw  -off  colonies,  which  go  forth  as  invaders,  to  conquer ;  the 
invaded  populations  resist. 

The  major  conflicts  of  inter-group  struggle  are  foreign  wars, 
and  these  extend  and  consolidate  the  social  composition.  Success- 
ful invaders,  having  conquered,  annex  lands  and  populations. 
Threatened  communities,  especially  if  of  one  blood  and  speech, 
combine  by  federation. 

In  peace  and  in  war,  gangs,  including  protocracies,  contend 
with  one  another  for  ascendancy  and  revenue.  Under  circum- 
stantial pressure  gangs  of  like  kind  and  like  function  tend  to  con- 
solidate, and  thereby  to  become  a  class.  In  the  struggle  with 
powers  of  earth  and  sky  for  safety  and  food,  religious  secret  soci- 
eties become  a  priesthood.  In  war,  fraternities  of  braves  become 
an  army  and  a  military  class. 

1  Dynamic  Psychology. 


276    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

With  the  rise  of  these  two  classes  a  succession  of  class  struggles 
begins.  The  shallowness  of  the  Marxian  philosophy  of  history  is 
in  nothing  more  concretely  shown  that  in  its  naive  assumption  of 
the  class  struggle,  as  if  the  clash  between  capitalist  and  proletarian 
were  a  phenomenon  unique.  The  first  class  conflict  is  between 
army  and  priesthood,  and  the  army  wins.  In  exchange  for  relig- 
ious sanction  military  adventurers  then  'let  in"  the  priesthood  and 
create,  by  the  combination,  a  landlord  class  to  exploit  free  tenants 
and  serfs.  Free  tenants  (some  of  them)  become  a  merchant  class, 
and  the  next  class  struggle  is  between  it  and  the  landlords.  The 
merchants  win,  and  in  exchange  for  social  recognition  "let  in"  the 
landlords.  This  new  consolidation  creates  the  capitalist  class,  to 
make  profits  by  organizing  and  employing  the  labor  of  emanci- 
pated serfs. 

The  major  intra-group  conflicts,  accordingly,  are  revolutions. 

Conflicts  among  groups,  including  national  groups,  and  con- 
flicts between  classes  are  the  major  phenomena  of  history. 

In  the  drives  of  war  and  revolution  protocratic  rule  broadens 
into  sovereignty:  "the  dominant  human  power,  individual  or 
pluralistic,  in  a  politically  organized  and  politically  independent 
population."  1  Sovereignty  is  never  under  any  circumstances  the 
absolute  power  to  compel  obedience  babbled  of  in  political  meta- 
physics. It  is  finite  and  conditioned.  It  is  not  even  an  indivisible 
unit  of  power ;  it  is  a  composition  of  forces.  The  forces  are  vari- 
able and  their  composition  is  variable. 

A  group  in  which  protocratic  rule  has  become  sovereignty,  and 
which  is  independent  to  the  extent  that  it  is  not  subject  .to  the 
sovereignty  of  any  other  group,  is  a  state.  Outside  of  the  meta- 
physical mind  the  state  is  never  an  abstraction.  It  is  a  politically 
organized  population,  and  altogether  concrete. 

Conflict  between  or  among  petty  sovereignties  creates  the  local 
state ;  conflict  between  or  among  local  states  creates  the  regional 
state ;  conflict  between  or  among  regional  states  creates  the  nation ; 
conflict  between  or  among  nations  creates  the  empire. 

The  local  state  is  supreme  until  the  regional  state  supersedes  it. 
The  regional  state  is  supreme  until  the  nation  supersedes  it.  The 
nation  is  supreme  until  the  empire  supersedes  it. 

1  Giddings,  The  Responsible  State,  p.  50. 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  277 

Individuals  are  not  absolved  from  responsibility  to  the  small 
component  groups  to  which  they  have  belonged  when  they  become 
responsible  also  to  large  groups  of  which  they  are  made  members 
through  social  integration;  but  responsibility  to  a  large  group 
which,  as  a  mutual  benefit  association,  is  relatively  effective  and 
important,  tends  to  override  responsibility  to  its  component  lesser 
groups  and  to  constituent  societies. 

Nevertheless,  individuals  do  not  in  a  majority  of  instances  give 
highest  allegiance  to  the  largest  organization  that  they  might  help 
to  form,  and  which  may  be  thought  of  as  in  the  making.  There  is, 
therefore,  a  major  number  of  instances  of  highest  allegiance  to  the 
largest  existing  aggregate.  At  the  present  time  the  largest  existing 
aggregates  are  nations,  and  more  individuals  give  highest  allegi- 
ance to  the  nation  than  give  it  to  the  commonwealth,  the  province, 
the  city,  the  village,  or  the  family,  or  to  any  hereditary  caste  or 
rank,  or  to  any  social  class,  or  than  are  yet  prepared  to  give  it  to  a 
league  of  nations. 

Sovereignty  may  be  concentrated  in  an  individual,  a  monarch, 
or  a  dictator,  or  in  a  lesser  degree  concentrated  in  a  class  or  in  an 
amorphous  mass  or  majority,  or  it  may  be  diffused  throughout  a 
democracy.  The  degree  of  concentration  is  a  function  of  the 
social  like-mindedness,  more  or  less,  and  of  the  circumstantial 
pressure. 

The  supreme  will  of  a  state  (in  whatever  mode  of  sovereignty 
manifested)  expresses  itself  and  achieves  its  end  in  various  ways, 
but  chiefly  through  government,  which  may  be  defined  as  the 
requisition,  direction,  and  organization  of  obedience.  It  is  the 
most  important  and,  all  in  all,  most  systematically  ordered 
procedure  known  to  society. 

The  sovereign  may  govern  directly  or  may  delegate  the  function 
of  governing  to  authorized  ministers  or  agents.  Direct  govern- 
ment by  the  sovereign  is  necessarily  an  absolute  rule.  Indirect  or 
delegated  government  may  be  an  absolute  or  a  limited  rule.  Limi- 
tations, however  carefully  embodied  in  written  constitutions,  are 
actually  observed  only  in  those  states  whose  populations  are  so 
far  like-minded  that  even  their  governmental  activities  are  in 
reality  more  like  forms  of  spontaneous  cooperation  than  like  an 
overruling  direction.  The  real  limitations  are  certain  well-stabi- 


278    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

lized  popular  habits.  Minorities  bow  to  the  will  of  a  majority, 
but  in  the  understanding  and  on  condition  that  they  have  liberty 
by  speech,  publication,  meeting,  and  all  other  peaceful  and  reason- 
able ways  of  campaigning  to  increase  their  numbers  and,  if  pos- 
sible, become  majorities. 

The  range  and  severity  of  government  are  determined  by  cir- 
cumstantial pressure. 

Sovereign  power  may  act  fitfully,  unexpectedly,  or  at  random; 
or  it  may  act  methodically,  after  a  declaration  of  purpose  and 
adhering  to  promulgated  rules.  Sovereign  purpose  formulated, 
promulgated,  and  enforced  is  law,  and  governmental  action  within 
the  bounds  of  law  is  "due  process  of  law." 

Law  is  a  form  and  a  content.  A  large  part  of  the  content  of 
law  is  a  body  of  rights.  In  large  measure  the  basic  substance  of 
legal  (or  positive  ) rights  is  drawn  from  the  "natural  rights"  of  the 
mores.1 

A  further  content  of  law  is  a  more  or  less  consistent  and  organ- 
ized group  of  policies,  becoming,  as  time  goes  on,  a  series  of  poli- 
cies intended  to  assure  and  to  further  collective  achievement. 

First  in  time  and  in  importance  are  policies  of  growth  and 
expansion,  and  of  safeguarding  against  enemy  attack  or  other 
immediate  calamity.  When  formulated  and  put  into  execution  by 
an  absolute  monarch  bent  upon  perpetuating  and  extending  the 
rule  of  a  dynasty  or  by  an  adventurer-despot  or  despotic  group, 
these  policies  become  militarism,  a  rationalistic  and  quite  cold- 
blooded attempt  to  organize  collective  power  for  aggressive  action 
and  to  apply  aggressive  action  relentlessly  to  the  task  of  subjuga- 
tion. Republics  have  to  wage  wars,  but  no  republic,  so  called 
or  described  by  any  one  using  words  responsibly,  has  ever  been 
militaristic. 

Mankind  has  not  been  able  to  enjoy  peace  by  wishing  it,  ap- 
proving it,  or  even  by  willing  it  or  planning  it. 

The  rise  and  the  decline  of  militarism  conform  to  the  laws  of 
increasing  and  of  diminishing  return.  For  a  time  it  may  bring 
in  more  than  it  costs;  but  a  point  is  reached  beyond  whic'i  the 
costs  increase  faster  than  the  returns.  In  the  rivalry  of  nations 
for  territory,  the  lands  available  for  annexation  by  any  one  of 

1  See  Giddings,  ibid.,  ch.  iii. 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  279 

them  become  fewer  in  number  and  more  difficult  to  obtain.  The 
frontier  is  extended,  and  its  defense  becomes  more  difficult  and 
more  costly.  The  maintenance  of  armies  of  increasing  size  entails 
a  relative  diminution  of  the  industrial  population  available  to  sup- 
port them.  Nations  vie  with  one  another  in  perfecting  the  en- 
ginery of  war,  and  the  cost  of  all  military  operations  is  thereby 
increased.1 

Observe,  however,  that  this  argument  applies  only  to  militarism, 
a  rationalistic  phenomenon.  It  does  not  hold  true  without  quali- 
fication of  war  merely  as  war.  As  individuals  fight  in  sheer  rage, 
or  in  scorn  of  one  another,  or  in  resent  of  insult,  so  nations  also 
fight  in  fear  and  in  hatred,  in  insolent  contempt  of  one  another, 
and  in  vindication  of  their  honor.  Utilitarian  considerations  do 
not  apply  to  these  tempests  of  wrath. 

Successful  war  prepares  the  way  for  exploitation  and  stimulates 
it.  The  annexation  of  territory,  the  creation  of  colonies,  and  the 
establishment  of  dependencies  bring  lands  and  peoples  hitherto 
foreign  into  direct  relations  with  the  conquering  nation.  Exclusive 
or  preferential  trade  relations  are  established.  Conquered  people 
may  be  enslaved,  or  compelled  to  toil  as  serfs,  or  as  a  nominally 
free  labor  force  be  kept  under  strict  subjection  by  economic  or 
other  means. 

Like  militarism,  exploitation  is  governed  by  the  laws  of  increas- 
ing and  diminishing  return.  A  point  is  found  beyond  which 
slavery  or  any  mode  of  enforced  labor  becomes  unprofitable  in 
competition  with  free  labor,  and  beyond  which  exclusiveness  and 
privilege  in  commercial  relations  provoke  an  increasingly  costly 
antagonism.  Moreover,  exploitive  industry  and  commerce  tend 
to  exhaust  natural  resources,  and  they  are  consistent  with  rela- 
tively crude  economic  methods  only. 

In  the  most  advanced  modern  civilization  there  is  a  partial 
superseding  of  policies,  both  of  subjugation  and  of  exploitation,  by 
policies  of  assistance.  Strong  peoples  extend  educational  advan- 
tages, relief  of  acute  distress,  and  to  some  extent  economic  oppor- 
tunity to  backward  races  and  to  dependent  peoples.  Great  Britain 
has  performed  this  task  and  rendered  this  service  on  a  vast  scale 

1  Compare  William  Graham  Sumner,  War  and  Other  Essays  and  Earth 
Plunger  and  Other  Essays. 


280    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

and  with  a  patience,  common  sense,  and  success  that  the  world, 
now  envious,  will  one  day  recognize.  America  has  fed  a  starving 
Europe,  and  cared  for  her  sick  and  injured,  and  helped  to  restore 
her  devastated  areas. 

Miscellaneous  in  character  and  of  slow  growth  are  policies  of 
conservation,  development,  and  efficiency  to  prevent  future  want 
or  failure.  Among  these,  policies  of  conservation  of  material 
resources  and  of  accumulation  of  material  goods  are  fundamental. 
They  appear  in  a  small  way  at  the  dawn  of  civilization  in  conser- 
vation of  water  supply,  in  drainage  and  irrigation,  but  they  de- 
velop slowly  and  it  is  only  in  great  modern  nations  and  empires 
that  they  are  systematically  organized.  Yet  more  slowly  grow 
policies  of  conservation  and  efficiency  of  human  resources  and  for 
the  prosperity  of  the  population.  These  comprise  policies  of 
sanitation,  of  education,  and  of  economy,  including  (a)  policies 
primarily  for  property-owning  classes,  (&)  policies  primarily  for 
service-rendering  classes,  (c)  policies  primarily  for  the  poor,  the 
unsuccessful,  the  relatively  weak,  and  the  unfortunate. 

The  execution  of  these  policies  may  be  undertaken  by  govern- 
ment or  committed  to-  private  agencies  subject  to  conditions  and 
limitations  fixed  by  law. 

It  comes  to  pass,  therefore,  that  governments  and  private 
organizations  in  a  measure  duplicate  each  other's  functions.  The 
actual  distribution  of  functions  between  public  and  private  agen- 
cies is  a  varying  one.  It  changes  with  changing  circumstances, 
that  is  to  say,  with  the  degree  of  like-mindedness  and  with  circum- 
stantial pressure. 

Not  only  security  and  resources  but  also  the  composition  of  the 
community,  the  equalities  of  its  individual  units,  and  their  relations 
to  one  another,  to  the  several  minor  groups  to  which  they  belong, 
and  to  the  integral  society,  are  factors  of  effectiveness.  To  con- 
trol these  and  to  improve  them,  policies  of  selection,  of  unification 
and  standardization,  of  liberty,  and  of  equality  are  devised  and 
tried. 

Policies  of  unification  and  standardization  include  attempts  to 
standardize  and  unify  language,  religion,  behavior,  opinion,  com- 
munication, education,  business,  law,  politics.  They  aim  to  per- 
fect the  behavioristic  solidarity  of  the  group.  Assimilation  is 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  281 

watched  with  concern.  Laws  are  enacted  or  edicts  are  promul- 
gated to  hasten  on  the  change.  One  language  must  be  spoken 
throughout  the  community.  One  religious  faith  must  be  embraced 
by  all.  One  consistent  economic  policy  must  be  followed.  One 
standard  of  conduct  and  of  legality  must  be  established  for  all 
citizens.  Within  the  voluntary  organization,  a  religious  denomi- 
nation, for  example,  or  a  trade  union  or  a  political  party,  an  at- 
tempt is  made  to  persuade  or  to  compel  all  members  to  believe  the 
same  thing  and  to  conduct  themselves  in  like  manner.  A  creed, 
a  body  of  rules,  or  a  platform  is  imposed.  An  orthodoxy  or  regu- 
larity is  insisted  upon  as  a  primary  obligation. 

The  extent  to  which  these  policies  are  pushed  is  determined  by 
circumstantial  pressure. 

Policies  of  liberty  are  reactions  against  the  restraints,  amount- 
ing often  to  intolerable  coercion,  of  excessive  unification.  They 
aim  at  a  toleration  of  variety,  of  individual  initiative,  of  freedom 
of  thought,  speech,  and  conduct.  They  take  legal  form  in  bills  of 
rights  and  constitutional  guaranties  of  liberty. 

Policies  of  equality  are  reactions  against  the  abuse  of  liberty 
by  men  and  parties  that  take  advantage  of  their  freedom  to  curtail 
the  opportunities  of  their  fellows  and  to  exploit  them.  They  aim 
to  establish  an  equality  of  liberty  and,  as  far  as  possible,  of  oppor- 
tunity. They  include  the  establishment  of  political  equality 
through  universal  suffrage,  equal  standing  before  the  law,  the 
abolition  of  state-created  privileges  in  the  realm  of  economic 
interests,  equality  of  educational  opportunity,  and  measures  for 
the  protection  of  the  weak,  particularly  women  and  children,  in 
the  economic  struggle. 

Not  only  do  policies  of  security,  conservation,  selection,  and 
standardization  start  reactions  toward  liberty,  and  policies  of 
liberty  provoke  reactions  toward  equality;  but  also  the  process 
reverses:  experiments  in  equality  provoke  reactions  toward  lib- 
erty, and  experiments  in  liberty  provoke  reactions  toward  unifica- 
tion and  selection. 

The  static  state  of  perfect  adjustment  and  consequent  equi- 
librium is  unattainable  because  of  an  inherent  contradiction  be- 
tween personal  or  subjective  equality  and  objective  or  social 
equality.  The  conditions  that  tend  to  create  subjective  inequality 


282     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

tend  to  establish  objective  equality,  and,  conversely,  the  creation 
of  objective  equality  tends  to  increase  subjective  inequality. 
Therefore  social  evolution,  like  organic  evolution,  creates  increas- 
ing inequality  of  personality.  At  the  same  time,  however,  it 
creates  increasingly  large  classes  of  individuals  that  as  persons  are 
substantially  equal  within  the  same  class. 

"Social  justice,"  as  the  term  is  popularly  understood,  comprises 
an  equalization  of  both  rights  and  opportunities.  Justice  in  a 
larger  sense  of  the  word  comprises  all  adjustments  of  social  fac- 
tors: individuals'  interests,  relations  and  actions  to  one  another 
and  to  the  social  whole.  It  includes,  as  those  who  have  defined  it 
in  the  main  agree,  the  definition  and  enforcement  of  rights,  the 
redress  of  injuries,  the  maintenance  of  sanctions,  the  equalization 
of  rights  and  opportunities,  the  adjustment  of  rewards  to  per- 
formances; but  it  includes  also  much  more  and  the  "more"  is 
immeasurably  delicate  and  difficult.  It  consists  in  unceasing  read- 
justment. 

Readjustment  is  made  necessary  by  ceaseless  changings  of  cir- 
cumstance and  by  continuing  change  in  demotic  composition  and 
in  pluralistic  behavior.  The  social  population  fluctuates  about  a 
kind  or  type.  Behavior  fluctuates  about  a  mode  or  norm.  The 
range  of  variation  at  one  time  is  narrow;  at  another  time  it  is 
wide. 

Policies  of  selection,  unification,  and  equilibration  recognize 
and  sanction  modalities.  Policies  of  liberty  recognize  and  sanc- 
tion variation.  Readjustments  change  the  range  of  permissible 
variation. 

Therefore  justice  in  its  highest  and  most  delicate  development 
is  a  ceaselessly  changing  adjustment  of  equalities  and  modalities 
to  immunities  and  liberties,  and  of  immunities  and  liberties  to 
modalities  and  equalities. 

No  arrangement  of  finite  affairs  is  finally  and  forever  just. 

Through  its  policies  and  its  readjustments  of  policy  organized 
society  in  a  measure  controls  variation  about  its  own  modes.  It 
exercises  self-control. 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  283 

12.    ORGANIZED  SOCIETY 

The  reaction  of  social  organization  upon  the  interplay  of  like- 
and  unlike-mindedness  and  upon  the  consciousness  of  kind  re- 
shapes the  social  mind,  as  Cooley  *  has  contended. 

The  process  is  experimental,  and  highly  concrete.  Unorganized 
pluralistic  reactions  are  simple  and  direct  in  form.  Human  energy 
explodes  in  trial  and  error.  But  turmoil  and  riot,  like  the  hit-or- 
miss  assaults  of  an  untrained  fighter,  are  wasteful  expenditures. 
If,  however,  the  flow  of  energy  keeps  up,  it  finds  points  of  low 
resistance  and  begins  to  follow  channels  that  branch  and  cross. 
Social  organization,  like  the  individual  nervous  system,  correlates 
and  coordinates  these  branchings  and  crossings,  and  more  and 
more  diverts  energy  into  them.  Thereby  it  transforms  much 
direct  and  simple  action  into  indirect  and  complex  action. 

The  transformation  normally  goes  so  far  that  direct  pluralistic 
action  becomes  subordinate  to  indirect  action,  as  instinct  in  the 
individual  mind  normally  becomes  subordinate  to  reason.  General 
strikes  and  revolutionary  violence  give  way  to  constructive  policies 
and  to  due  process  of  law.  Direct  action  is  primitive,  and  un- 
subordinated direct  action  is  uncivilized. 

Yet  this  evolution  can  begin  and  continue  only  if  there  is  direct 
action  (crude  pluralistic  reaction  to  stimulus)  to  transform;  and 
only  if  the  inequalities  and  diversities  of  reaction  that  are  neces- 
sary for  differentiation,  and  so  for  any  organization  whatsoever, 
are  normally  subject  to  a  dominating  like-mindedness  in  matters 
of  major  importance.  This  proposition  is  perhaps  less  obtrusively 
true  of  the  economic  division  of  labor  that  Adam  Smith  ex- 
pounded than  it  is  of  the  "division  of  social  labor"  that  Durk- 
heim 2  expounded ;  but  it  is  demonstrably  true  of  both. 

Adam  Smith  apparently  never  saw  the  true  relation  of  The 
Wealth  of  Nations  to  The  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  although 
he  was  looking  directly  at  it  all  his  days.  When  in  The  Wealth  of 
Nations  he  had  demonstrated  that  an  increase  of  wealth  is  made 
possible  by  division  of  labor,  that  the  division  of  labor  is  limited 
by  the  extent  of  the  market,  and  that  extent  of  the  market  is 
extent  of  demand,  he  did  not  then  by  resolving  extended  demand 

1  Charles  Horton  Cooley,  Social  Organisation. 
'Emile  Durkheim,  De  la  Division  du  Travail  social. 


284     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

into  pluralistic  demand  discover  its  identity  with  like-mindedness, 
of  which,  without  so  naming  it,  he  had  discoursed  in  The  Theory 
of  Moral  Sentiments.  Therefore  he  did  not  appreciate,  he  prob- 
ably did  not  quite  see,  the  broad  social  fact  that  the  differentiation 
of  productive  effort  is  limited  by  the  extent  of  like-mindedness  in 
respect  of  consumption. 

As  for  the  larger  division  of  social  labor,  a  population  that  is 
not  prevailingly  like-minded  is  collectively  ineffective  (and  usually 
chaotic)  or  it  is  ruled  and  organized  by  the  strong  arm.  Only  like- 
minded  communities  are  capable  of  democratic  self-government, 
and  only  the  like-mindedness  that  is  enlightened  and  deliberative 
can  create  and  maintain  a  liberal  democracy.  Proof  is  superabun- 
dant. Mexico  is  the  great  modern  example.  Without  a  meeting 
of  minds  on  large  and  fundamental  issues  Mexico  submitted  to 
order  and  made  material  progress  under  the  despotism  of  Diaz, 
only  to  fall  into  a  chaos  of  conspiracies  when  despotic  rule  ended. 

As  a  mechanism  organized  society  is  good  or  bad.  A  good 
machine  is  coherent  and  elastic  to  pressure.  An  organic  machine 
— namely,  a  plant,  an  animal,  or  a  man — is  also  adaptable  to  crisis 
or  change.  Man  has  succeeded  in  making  machines  adaptable  in 
a  small  way;  the  clock  with  a  pendulum,  the  turbine  and  the 
steam  engine  equipped  with  automatic  cut-off  to  control  the  feed 
of  water  or  of  steam,  are  familiar  examples ;  but  he  has  not  yet 
made  a  machine  comparable  in  adaptability  to  a  living  organism 
or  to  a  society.  Adaptability  turns  upon  the  variability  of  units ; 
cohesion  upon  the  typicalness,  uniformity,  or  standardization  of 
units.  Anarchism,  or  lawless  individualism,  is  excessive  variabil- 
ity and  non-cohesion.  Socialism  is  excessive  standardization  and 
deficient  adaptability.  Individualism  is  theoretically  a  working 
combination  of  enough  like-mindedness  for  collective  effectiveness* 
with  enough  unlike-mindedness  for  organization  and  progress. 
Theoretically,  therefore,  individualism  at  its  best  is  the  best  social 
system  because,  more  adequately  than  any  other,  it  combines 
cohesion,  elasticity,  and  variability ;  but  individualism  at  its  worst 
may  be  as  bad  as  anarchism  which  is  anti-social.  Socialism  is  a 
revolt  against  anti-social  individualism.  Socialistic  policies  may 
be  expedient  as  restraints  of  anti-social  conduct  and  to  supplement 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  285 

private  cooperation ;  but  on  the  whole  and  in  the  long  run  they  are 
justified  only  to  the  extent  that  they  develop  a  social  individualism. 

IV.    THE  ACHIEVEMENTS  OF  ORGANIZED  ENDEAVOR 
13.    AMELIORATION 

The  immediate  business  of  organized  endeavor  is  to  mitigate 
the  struggle  for  existence  in  a  large  way  and  effectively  and  to 
make  life  worth  while.  Its  ulterior  business  and  supreme  function 
are  to  develop  human  personality. 

Organized  endeavor  mitigates  the  struggle  for  existence  by 
accumulating  knowledge,  amassing  capital,  and  conducting  gov- 
ernment. By  means  of  these  activities  and  achievements  life  is 
made  relatively  secure,  comfortable,  and  satisfying. 

The  accumulation  of  knowledge  has  been  the  work  of  unnum- 
bered generations  tirelessly  groping  and  exploring  through  ages 
measured  presumably  by  millions  rather  than  by  thousands  of 
years,  as  the  world  once  thought.  No  argument  is  necessary  to 
prove  that  without  society  and  organized  endeavor  the  achieve- 
ment of  knowledge  would  have  been  impossible.  Folkways,  folk- 
lore, and  tradition  have  been  necessary.  Education  has  been 
necessary.  Organized  investigation,  writing,  printing,  libraries, 
and  laboratories  have  been  necessary. 

Without  society  the  capital  acquired  by  man  could  not  have 
exceeded  the  bees'  store  of  honey,  the  beavers'  dam,  the  apes'  club, 
the  savages'  chipped  flint.  There  could  have  been  no  agriculture, 
no  domesticated  animals,  no  exchangeable  goods,  and  no  money. 
Without  organized  endeavor  there  could  have  been  no  mechan- 
isms, no  boats,  no  roads,  no  mines,  no  mills,  no  banks. 

Without  multiple  and  differentiated  societies  and  organized 
endeavor  on  a  big  scale  there  could  have  been  no  governments; 
for  among  them  all  there  is  not  one  that  is  not  a  product  of  foreign 
wars. and  domestic  revolutions. 

Knowledge,  capital,  and  government  are  necessary  for  security 
against  armed  enemies,  against  tempest  and  flood  and  fire,  against 
pestilence,  against  famine  and  pitiless  cold.  They  are  necessary 
to  establish  equity  by  balancing  equality  against  liberty.  They  are 


286    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

necessary  to  expand  and  to  clarify  thought  and  to  diminish  fear.1 
Organized  endeavor  has  achieved  these  things ;  it  has  progres- 
sively ameliorated  the  human  lot. 

14.    MUTATION  AND  VARIATION 

Variant  organisms  are  relatively  unstable:  they  are  relatively 
frail,  and  they  perish  more  easily  than  do  their  kindred  competi- 
tors that  more  closely  conform  to  type.  All  depends,  therefore,  on 
the  severity  of  the  struggle.  Whatever  mitigates  the  struggle 
multiplies  the  survival  chances  of  variants  that  may  develop  a  high 
degree  of  individuality.  It  is  because  the  social  organization  of 
endeavor  has  ameliorated  the  life  of  man  that  the  human  race  is 
above  all  other  species  variable  and  adaptable ;  capable  of  extraor- 
dinary differentiation  of  aptitude  and  able  to  meet  crises  with 
amazing  skill.  This  is  not  the  result  of  any  physical  transmission 
of  acquired  traits.  It  is,  as  far  as  we  can  see,  altogether  a  conse- 
quence of  the  social  mitigation  of  natural  selection.  Protected  and 
sustained  by  society,  frail  and  unstable  individuals,  cranks  and 
oddities,  crooks  and  martyrs,  idiots  and  geniuses,  who  would 
miserably  perish  in  a  "state  of  nature,"  survive  and  pass  on  their 
qualities  in  Mendelian  distributions.  The  problem  of  disposing 
of  the  crooks  and  the  idiots,  or  of  enduring  them,  is  the  price  we 
have  to  pay  for  the  geniuses  and  their  contributions  to  our  joy. 

The  study  of  human  variation  in  its  sociological  aspect  is  a 
statistical  investigation. 

There  is  a  range  of  structural  and  physiological  adequacy  be- 
tween extremes  of  defect  or  deformity  and  of  completeness  or 
balance.  Vitality  as  measured  by  energy,  health,  fecundity,  and 
longevity  ranges  from  relatively  low  to  relatively  high  extremes. 
Mentality  ranges  from  idiocy  to  genius,  and  character  from  de- 
pravity to  magnanimity. 

Hardship  and  a  standardizing  social  pressure,  elastic  to  an 
increasing  circumstantial  pressure,  shorten  all  these  ranges.  Ame- 
lioration and  increasing  freedom  (intellectual,  moral,  and  politi- 
cal) lengthen  them. 

Organized  endeavor  can  always  shorten  these  ranges,  and  the 

1  Lester  Frank  Ward's  Dynamic  Sociology  remains  the  most  compre- 
hensive study  of  this  field. 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  287 

temptation  to  do  so  is  great  because  stupidity  and  wickedness 
annoy  us  and  often  anger  us,  an  easy  thing  to  do,  while  the  value 
of  genius  we  can  neither  see  nor  weigh  unless  we  can  think  (not 
everybody  can)  and  will  take  the  trouble  to  think  (most  of  us 
won't) .  Probably  in  no  other  enterprise  has  human  wisdom  made 
so  sorry  an  exhibition  of  itself  as  in  its  attempts  to  standardize 
thought  and  morals. 

15.    SOCIALIZATION 

Remembering  that  with  conscious  intent  and  by  unconsciously 
exerted  pressure  society  eliminates  much  human  material  that 
proves  to  be  unfit  for  social  life,  we  clarify  the  idea  of  socializa- 
tion :  a  phenomenon  of  discipline  and  education,  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  socially  possible.  Socialization  is  the  opposite  of  muta- 
tion and  supplementary  variation.  It  is  an  aggregate  of  acquisi- 
tions, in  distinction  from  native  traits.  It  cannot  be  transmitted 
through  heredity,  but  by  teaching  it  can  be  handed  on  with  com- 
pounding interest  from  generation  to  generation. 

The  socialized  members  of  organized  society  "play  the  game" ; 
the  non-socialized  survivors  from  savagery  and  interlopers  from 
barbarism  do  not.  The  socialized  are  tolerant  and  regardful  of 
the  rights  (natural  and  legal)  of  their  fellowmen;  they  are  by 
habit  helpful;  they  value  and  observe  manners;  and  they  can 
cooperate. 

The  zero  point  of  socialization  is  criminality,  that  degree  of 
departure  from  prevailing  and  approved  behavior  which  the  com- 
munity by  process  of  law  and  with  relative  severity  punishes. 

If  the  range  of  socialization  from  zero  up  be  divided  into  four 
parts  or  grade  quarters,  we  get  the  following  distribution  of  habits 
and  persons: 

In  the  lowest  grade  quarter  are  the  predatory,  aggressors  upon 
person  and  property,  law-breakers. 

In  the  second  grade  quarter  (counting  from  the  lowest  up)  are 
the  intentionally  or  willingly  dependent,  wholly  or  in  part;  the 
self-seeking,  intent  on  getting  more  than  they  give;  the  incon- 
siderate and  irresponsible. 

In  the  third  grade  quarter  are  the  dependable,  the  helpful,  the 
considerate,  and  the  responsible,  who  are  also  type-conforming, 
conventional,  uninventive,  and  non-innovating. 


288    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

In  the  fourth  and  highest  quarter  are  the  dependable  and  the 
helpful  who  are  mindful  of  the  value  of  social  usage  but  are  also 
independent  in  thought,  courageous,  willing  to  experiment,  but 
cautiously,  and  with  full  responsibility  for  results. 

This  distribution  into  quarters  is  artificial,  but  it  makes  obser- 
vation and  recording  possible.  With  competent  assistance  I  have 
obtained  observations  of  1,888  individuals  comprised  in  428 
families  and  all  personally  known  by  the  observers.  The  distri- 
bution by  socialization  is : 

Grade  Quarter  Number  of  Individuals 

I  52 

II  317 

III  1044 

IV  475 

16.    INDIVIDUATION 

Original  nature  (inherited  traits,  variations)  and  acquired 
nature  (habits,  socialization)  are  mingled,  perhaps  blended,  in 
individuation. 

Individuation  begins  in  the  chromatin  and  proceeds  through 
Mendelian  combinations  of  units.  Probably  no  individual  is  an 
exact  duplicate  of  another,  and  inasmuch  as  the  life-circumstances 
of  each  living  body  are  different  in  a  great  or  a  small  degree  from 
those  of  every  other  body,  life  would  soon  cease  if  there  were  no 
organic  variability.  And  inasmuch  as  the  life-circumstances  of 
each  individual  are  in  a  degree  peculiar  (in  other  words,  the 
stimuli  that  play  upon  each  individual  are  in  a  degree  peculiar), 
the  behavior  of  each  individual  is  differential.  Among  these 
stimuli  in  the  experience  of  the  human  race  are  social  influences 
and  among  the  reactions  are  socialization.  So  by  instinct  in  like 
measure  with  lower  animals  and  by  habit  in  amazing  measure 
surpassing  the  experience  of  any  other  species,  mankind  is  in- 
dividuated. 

The  range  of  individuation  is  upward  from  a  zero  point  at 
instinct  little  above  the  animal  level.  Dividing  it  into  grade 
quarters  we  get  the  following  distribution  of  original  and  acquired 
traits,  and  of  persons : 


PLURALISTIC  BEHAVIOR  289 

In  the  lowest  quarter :  instincts  strong  and  not  much  controlled ; 
sympathy  deficient  or  narrow  in  range;  cruel  (when  cruelty  is 
manifested)  in  an  unfeeling  and  brutal  rather  than  in  a  deliberate 
and  ingenious  way ;  tastes  low  and  crude ;  ideas  elementary,  primi- 
tive, and  limited  in  number  and  in  range. 

In  the  second  quarter  (counting  from  the  lowest  up)  :  motor 
impulses  variable  in  strength;  instincts  infused  with  abundant 
emotion,  variable  from  grave  to  gay ;  sympathy  quick  but  super- 
ficial and  unstable ;  imaginative  but  without  sufficient  intellectual 
power  to  be  creative  in  literature  or  in  art  beyond  the  simpler 
products;  without  strong  convictions  or  a  controlling  sense  of 
responsibility;  ideas  relatively  abundant  and  varied  but  only 
loosely  organized. 

In  the  third  quarter :  motor  impulses  of  any  degree  of  strength 
from  weak  to  violent ;  instincts  and  passions  strong,  but  controlled 
by  convictions ;  emotion  strong,  blended  with  beliefs,  and  partisan ; 
convictions  tenacious,  and  a  dominant  factor  in  mental  processes 
'and  in  behavior;  may  be  ruthless  and  cruel  under  influence  of 
fanaticism;  intolerant  of  doubt,  impatient  of  hesitation,  scornful 
of  weakness. 

In  the  fourth  and  highest  quarter:  motor  impulses,  instincts, 
and  passions  of  any  degree  from  weak  to  very  strong ;  emotions 
abundant  and  varied,  may  or  may  not  be  well  controlled;  beliefs 
subject  to  review  and  modification;  ideas  abundant  and  organized ; 
open-minded,  of  investigating  turn,  insistent  upon  .evidence; 
judicially  critical  rather  than  fault-finding  or  denunciatory;  may 
make  discoveries ;  may  be  inventive  or  creative. 

With  assistance  I  have  obtained  observations  of  1,536  indi- 
viduals comprised  in  294  families  and  personally  known  by  the 
observers.  The  distribution  by  individuation  is :  * 

Grade  Quarter  Number  of  Individuals 

I  82 

II  334 

III  763 

IV  357 

*Cf.  Giddings,  "A  Provisional  Distribution  of  the  Population  of  the 
United  States  into  Psychological  Classes,"  The  Psychological  Review,  Vol. 
VIII,  No.  4,  July,  1901. 


2QO    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

In  the  degree  that  a  human  being  is  individuated  he  has  per- 
sonality, he  is  a  person. 

A  person  is  unique  but  also  social.  In  a  million  ways  like  other 
persons,  he  is  in  many  ways  unlike  any  other  that  lives  or  that 
ever  has  lived.  Conforming  to  type  in  much,  he  also  significantly 
varies  from  type,  and  variability  within  race  limits  there  must  be, 
if  personality  is  to  develop.  Furthermore,  the  variant  must  sur- 
vive and  hand  on  his  race.  In  this  necessity  lie  all  the  possibilities 
of  achievement  and  of  tragedy. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FURTHER  INQUIRIES   OF  SOCIOLOGY 

IN  the  same  large  sense  in  which  economics  is  the  science  of  the 
production  and  distribution  of  wealth,  for  man,  sociology  is  the 
science  of  the  production  and  distribution  of  adequacy,  of  man 
and  in  man.  Economics  tells  us  Bow,  as  far  as  it  is  possible,  we 
can  get  the  things  that  we  desire  to  have;  sociology  tells  us  how, 
as  far  as  it  is  possible,  we  can  become  what  we  desire  to  be.  It 
tells  us  by  what  gropings  and  fumblings,  through  what  relations 
with  one  another,  and  through  what  experiments  in  mutual  aid 
mankind  has  acquired  power  to  survive  under  varied  and  changing 
conditions,  power  to  achieve,  and  capacity  for  happiness.  Ade- 
quacy comprises  endurance,  health,  reproductive  vigor,  intelli- 
gence, self  control,  ability  to  make  adjustments  with  others  and  to 
get  on  helpfully  with  others  in  cooperation.  Society  produces 
these  factors  of  adequacy  in  the  same  sense  in  which  the  breeder 
produces  desired  qualities  in  animals,  namely,  by  selecting  them 
and  providing  the  conditions  under  which  they  can  survive.  The 
practical  manifestations  of  adequacy  are:  individual  initiative, 
individual  responsibility,  and  an  individual  participation  that  is 
efficient  and  helpful  in  collective  endeavor. 

It  will  not  surprise  my  co-workers  in  sociology  that  I  as  an 
individual  so  conceive  of  our  science,  because  in  all  my  writings 
for  twenty-five  years  I  have  insisted,  perhaps  tiresomely,  that 
society  is  comprehensible  only  if  we  know  what  it  does,  and  that 
what  it  does  is  to  convert  a  biologicaf  survival  of  the  fit  for  the 
jungle  into  a  historical  survival  of  the  better  for  human  purposes. 
In  other  words,  as  I  argued  in  The  Principles  of  Sociology  and 
have  since  maintained,  the  function  of  society  is  to  develop  and  to 
safeguard  the  higher  types  of  human  personality. 

If  I  can  be  said  to  have  a  system  of  sociology  it  is  briefly  this : 

I.  A  situation  or  stimulus  is  reacted  to  by  more  than  one  indi- 

291 


292     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

vidual ;  there  is  pluralistic  as  well  as  singularistic  behavior.  Plu- 
ralistic behavior  develops  into  rivalries,  competitions,  and  con- 
flicts, and  also,  into  agreements,  contracts,  and  collective  enter- 
prises. Therefore  social  phenomena  are  products  of  two  varia- 
bles, namely,  situation  (in  the  psychologist's  definition  of  the 
word)  and  pluralistic  behavior. 

2.  When  the  individuals  who  participate  in  pluralistic  behavior 
have  become  differentiated  into  behavioristic  kinds  or  types,  a  con- 
sciousness of  kind,  liking  or  disliking,  approving  or  disapproving 
one  kind  after  another,  converts  gregariousness  into  a  consciously 
discriminative  association,  herd  habit  into  society ;  and  society,  by 
a  social  pressure  which  sometimes  is  conscious  but  more  often, 
perhaps,  is  unconscious,  makes  life  relatively  hard  for  kinds  of 
character  and  conduct  that  are  disapproved. 

3.  Society  organizes  itself  for  collective  endeavor  and  achieve- 
ment, if  fundamental  similarities  of  behavior  and  an  awareness  of 
them  are  extensive  enough  to  maintain  social  cohesion,  while  dif- 
ferences of  behavior  and  awareness  of  them  in  matters  of  detail 
are  sufficient  to  create  a  division  of  labor. 

4.  In  the  long  run  organized  society  by  its  approvals  and  dis- 
approvals, its  pressures  and  achievements,  selects  and  perpetuates 
the  types  of  mind  and  character  that  are  relatively  intelligent, 
tolerant,  and  helpful,  that  exhibit  initiative,  that  bear  their  share 
of  responsibility  and  that  effectively  play  their  part  in  collective 
enterprise.     It  selects  and  perpetuates  the  adequate. 

This,  I  think,  is  an  intelligible  and  rather  straightforward  way 
of  explaining  society.  But  society  is  the  most  intricate  tangle  of 
happenings  and  relationships  that  the  scientific  mind  can  investi- 
gate. It  can  be  approached  in  many  ways.  It  has  been  described 
in  many  formulas,  not  obviously  identical.  It  is,  therefore,  quite 
in  order  to  ask  whether  the  definition  of  sociology  that  I  have 
submitted  is  anything  more  than  a  personal  reaction.  Can  it  be 
found  elsewhere  ?  Are  other  definitions  substantially  identical,  or 
at  least  consistent,  with  it? 

I  am  glad  to  answer  this  question,  or,  rather,  to  bring  forward 
an  answer  that  other  men  have  made.  It  is  interesting  and  inspir- 
ing. Without  explicitly  telling  us  so  the  founders  of  sociology 
have,  in  fact,  it  would  seem,  without  exception  conceived  of  the 


FURTHER  INQUIRIES  OF  SOCIOLOGY  293 

science  of  society  as  a  systematic  study  of  the  increase  and  dis- 
tribution of  human  adequacy  to  exist  and  achieve. 

How  otherwise  can  we  interpret  Comte's  major  contention  that 
social  dynamics  is  an  account  of  the  advance,  or  progress,  that 
mankind  has  made  from  theological  through  metaphysical  to  posi- 
tive thinking,  and  that  positive  thinking  has  put  him  in  command 
of  his  destiny?  How  otherwise  can  we  interpret  Spencer's  in- 
sistence that  mankind  has  begun  to  go  right  after  having  tried  all 
the  possible  ways  of  going  wrong,  chief  of  which  has  been  mili- 
tarism, which  has  selected  authority-revering  types  of  character; 
and  that  only  under  a  voluntaristic,  cooperative  industrialism, 
which  selects  peace-loving  and  self-reliant  natures,  can  our  race 
become  humane ;  inasmuch  as,  until  then,  we  shall  not  be  able  to 
educe  golden  conduct  from  leaden  human  natures.  Certainly  no 
other  interpretation  can  be  put  upon  Lester  F.  Ward's  Dynamic 
Sociology  as  it  is  expounded  in  the  volumes  bearing  that  title  and 
in  later  writings.  Its  thesis  is  that  society  not  only  grows  but  also 
is  made,  consciously  and  for  a  purpose.  It  is  a  product  of  telic 
effort.  And  to  what  end  is  it  made  ?  What  is  the  purpose  ?  I  do 
not  know  that  Ward  anywhere  uses  the  word,  but  he  unmistak- 
ably identifies  and  describes  the  thing ;  society  is  made  to  the  end 
that  it  may  produce  human  adequacy,  and,  above  all,  increase  the 
ratio  of  adequate  individuals  to  the  inadequate.  Therefore,  he 
contends,  it  is  the  supreme  duty  of  society  to  disseminate  existing 
knowledge  and  to  educate  everybody.  Finally  (and  I  say  finally 
because  I  limit  my  survey  to  four  writers,  one  French,  one  Eng- 
lish, and  two  American  who  are  no  longer  living),  no  other  in- 
terpretation can  be  put  upon  the  teaching  of  William  Graham 
Sumner  whom,  now  that  he  is  gone,  we  are  beginning  to  recognize 
as  perhaps  the  most  consistently  sociological  if  not  the  greatest  of 
sociologists.  In  folkways  Sumner  finds  the  most  characteristic  of 
social  reactions  and  products.  They  are  the  primary  mechanism 
of  pluralistic  control  and  adjustment.  The  state  is  a  secondary 
and  far  more  artificial  mechanism.  The  folkways  mediate  be- 
tween individual  impulse  and  the  conditions  to  which  life  must 
adapt  itself.  They  discipline  the  individual  and  hold  him  to  his 
obligations.  He  in  turn  reacts  upon  them  by  innovating  experi- 
ment and  occasional  rebellion.  Products  of  trial  and  error,  by  trial 


294     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

and  error  they  are  changed.  In  such  ceaseless  conflict  between 
individual  impulse  and  pluralistic  habit  individual  adequacy  dis- 
covers itself  and  is  discovered.  It  is  tried  and  tempered.  The 
unsuccessful  innovator  is  eliminated.  His  idea  may  have  been 
true  and  valuable  but  "untimely  born"  or  ineffectively  presented. 
The  successful  innovator  survives,  and  with  him  adequacy. 

If,  looking  further,  we  could  compare  all  known  systems  of 
sociology,  we  should  discover,  I  am  confident,  that  their  funda- 
mental agreement  lies  precisely  in  this  matter,  namely,  that,  like 
their  ancient  prototypes  The  Republic  of  Plato  and  The  Politics  of 
Aristotle,  they  view  society  as  functioning  to  produce  human 
adequacy.  Their  disagreements  arise  out  of  their  differing  as- 
sumptions as  to  means  or  method.  Systems  that  have  taken  for 
granted  a  Lamarkian  biology  have  laid  emphasis  on  environment 
and  education.  Systems  that  have  anticipated  or  accepted  a  later 
biology  (built  upon  facts  of  mutation  and  predictable  heredity) 
lay  emphasis  on  a  social  selection  that  is  continuous  with  natural 
selection  and  supplementary  to  it.  At  the  present  moment  sociol- 
ogy like  psychology  is  quietly  abandoning  errors  that  it  took  over 
from  a  biology  now  discredited.  We  are  beginning  to  discriminate 
between  heredity,  a  physiological  transmission  of  traits  to  off- 
spring, and  heritage,  a  sum  total  of  knowledge,  pattern,  technique, 
and  property  handed  on  by  teaching  and  surrender,  and  we  shall 
cease  to  confuse  habits,  which  each  generation  must  acquire,  with 
original  or  instinctive  nature  which  is  the  equipment  that  we  are 
born  with.  Having  made  these  corrections,  in  our  thinking  we 
shall  probably  stop  kicking  against  the  pricks,  forget  that  we  once 
believed  in  the  inheritance  of  acquired  traits,  and  no  longer  feel 
obliged  to  deny  that  character  and  intelligence  are  facts  of  original 
nature,  while  behavior  and  knowledge  are  facts  of  habit.  Charac- 
ter cannot  fundamentally  be  made  over  after  birth  any  more  than 
bodily  constitution  can  be,  but  behavior,  including  moral  conduct, 
can  be  improved  until  old  age  just  as  health  can  be.  Intelligence 
regarded  as  mental  power  cannot  be  increased  after  birth,  but  its 
functioning  can  be  speeded  up  and  knowledge  can  be  increased 
indefinitely. 

These  elementary  teachings  of  the  new  biology  to  which  sociol- 
ogy will  have  to  adapt  itself,  if  it  has  not  already  done  so,  throw  a 


FURTHER  INQUIRIES  OF  SOCIOLOGY  295 

clear  light  upon  adequacy.  Plainly  we  now  see,  adequacy  is  partly 
a  fact  of  original  nature  or  equipment ;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  partly 
a  fact  of  ability;  but  also,  it  is  partly  a  fact  of  acquisition  or 
habit ;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  partly  a  fact  of  morale. 

In  so  factorizing  adequacy  we  have,  I  now  suggest,  the  starting- 
point  from  which  certain  further  inquiries  in  sociology  apparently 
should  and  probably  will  proceed.  They  will  explore  possibility, 
asking  how  and  how  far  civilized  communities  now  existing  can 
discover,  select  and  develop  adequacy  in  human  beings ;  as  group 
dwellers  to  participate  in  the  opportunities,  obligations  and  enter- 
prises of  society,  and  as  individuals  to  profit  by  them.  In  my  own 
mind  these  further  inquiries  take  form  and  arrangement  somewhat 
like  this : 

1.  What  regional  and  circumstantial  influences  antecedent  to 
society  select,  as  elements  of  a  local  or  a  regional  population, 
individuals  and  stocks  (i)  superior  in  point  of  ability,  (2)  medi- 
ocre, (3)  inferior. 

2.  What  circumstances  and  pluralistic  reactions  (including  dis- 
ciplines and  selections,  an  inclusion  which  is  to  be  understood 
wherever  the  word   "reactions"   appears  in  these  paragraphs) 
develop  (i)  preference,  (2)  aptitude  for  (a)  rural  life,  (b)  vil- 
lage or  small  town  life,  (c)  the  intense  life  of  congested  urban 
areas  ? 

3.  What  circumstances  and  reactions   (i)   prevent  or  hinder 
the  amalgamation  of  differing  stocks  in  a  local  or  a  regional  popu- 
lation, (2)  facilitate  indiscriminate  amalgamation,  (3)  facilitate 
a  selective  amalgamation? 

4.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  (i)  preference, 
(2)  aptitude  for  (a)  rivalistic  and  competitive  behavior,  (b)  co- 
operative behavior  ? 

5.  What   circumstances   and   reactions,    when   inequalities    of 
promptness,  persistence  and  effectiveness  are  increasing,  develop 
admiration  for  intellect  and  strengthen  a  disposition  to  trust  in- 
tellectual ability? 

6.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  increase  sensitiveness  to 
interstimulation,  and  develop  orderliness   (of  sequence,  correla- 
tion, and  coordination)  of  response  to  it? 

7.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  increase  sensitiveness  to 


296     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

behavioristic  differences  and  resemblances  among  individuals, 
among  groups,  among  stocks,  and  so  develop  the  consciousness  of 
kind? 

8.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  inhibit  the  inferior  modes 
of  concerted  volition,  restraining  a  disposition  to  rely  on  coercive 
direct  action  taking  form,  for  example,  in  the  boycott  and  the 
strike,  in  slacking,  in  property-destroying  sabotage,  in  bullying 
or  intimidation,  or  in  physical  violence,  for  attaining  desired  ends  ? 
What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  deliberative  like-mind- 
edness  ? 

9.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  strengthen  a  disposition 
to  rely  on  religion,  education,  folkways  and  mores  more  than  on 
law  and  government  to  improve  human  behavior  ? 

10.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  strengthen  a  disposition 
to  standardize  behavior  and  to  require  conformity  to  standards 
and    types?      Conversely,    what    circumstances    and    reactions 
strengthen  a  love  of  liberty  and  a  disposition  to  extend  it  ? 

11.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  strengthen  minority  rule 
( i )  established  and  maintained  by  the  use  of  force,  or  by  inspir- 
ing fear,  or  through  protection,  purchase,  bribery,  or  bestowal  of 
favors;  (2)  established  and  maintained  by  winning  and  holding- 
the  uncoerced  and  unbought  approval  of  the  majority  through 
proof  of  ability,  character  and  beneficent  purpose? 

12.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  a  predilection 
for  (i)  strictly  monogamic  relations  of  the  sexes;  (2)  relations 
usually  monogamic  but  with  toleration  or  approval  of  (a)  excep- 
tions,  (b)  divorce;  (3)   relations  of  any  individually  preferred 
degree  of  simplicity,  complexity,  or  variety,  and  of  duration  de- 
termined by  private  agreement;  (4)  large  families,  unlimited  by 
birth  control;  (5)  families  large  or  small  or  unions  childless,  as 
determined  by  birth  control ;  (6)  families  (or  children  reared  by 
other  than  parental  care)  that  are  products  of  eugenic  experimen- 
tation ? 

13.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  a  stronger  at- 
tachment and  loyalty  to  a  local  or  a  minor  regional  group  (hamlet, 
village,  small  town,  large  town,  or  city,  or  province)  than  to  a 
major  regional  group   (nation  or  empire)  ?     Conversely,  what 
circumstances  and  reactions  develop  a  stronger  attachment  and 


FURTHER  INQUIRIES  OF  SOCIOLOGY  297 

loyalty  to  a  major  regional  group  than  to  any  minor  regional  or 
local  group? 

14.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  stronger  attach- 
ments and  loyalties  to  the  town,  the  nation,  or  the  empire  than 
to  occupational  and  class  organizations?     Conversely,  what  cir- 
cumstances and  reactions  develop  stronger  attachments  and  loy- 
alties to  occupational  and  class  organizations  than  to  the  empire, 
the  nation  or  the  town  ? 

15.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  a  predilection 
for  authoritative  types  of  organization?     Conversely  what  cir- 
cumstances and  reactions  develop  a  predilection  for  free  types  of 
organization  ? 

16.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  a  predilection 
for  (i)  closed  organization,  from  which  non-privileged  individ- 
uals (e.  g.  persons  not  of  a  designated  lineage,  or  birthplace,  or 
not  of  a  stipulated  fortune)  are  excluded;  (2)  indiscriminately 
open  organization  (e.  g.  "the  open  shop")  ;  (3)  selectively  closed 
or  open  organization  (e.  g.  the  church  in  which  assent  to  a  creed 
is  demanded,  the  closed  shop,  the  trade  union)  ? 

17.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  a  predilection 
for  militarism?    Conversely,  what  circumstances  and  reactions 
strengthen  antagonism  to  militarism? 

18.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  a  predilection 
for  communism?    Conversely,  what  circumstances  and  reactions 
develop  a  predilection  for  individualism  ? 

19.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  develop  a  predilection 
for  (i)  democratic  society,  (2)  the  democratic  state? 

20.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  strengthen  a  predilection 
to  conserve  resources  and  to  accumulate  surplus?     Conversely, 
what  circumstances  and  reactions  strengthen  a  predilection  to 
squander  and  waste  ? 

21.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  (i)  increase  (a)  non- 
hereditary  variability,   (b)   hereditary  variability;   (2)   diminish 
(a)  non-hereditary  variability,  (b)  hereditary  variability? 

22.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  by  discipline  improve 
the  morale  of  an  increasing  proportion  of  the  population? 

23.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  impair  morale,  and  if 
persistent  destroy  it? 


298     STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

24.  What  circumstances  and   reactions   acting  selectively  in- 
crease (i)  the  absolute  number,  (2)  the  relative  number,  (3)  both 
the  absolute  and  the  relative  number  of  able  men  and  women  in 
the  community,  a  standard  of  ability  being  taken,  and  the  limits 
of  the  community  being  defined? 

25.  What  circumstances  and  reactions  ( I )  both  increase  ability 
and  improve  morale,  (2)  both  diminish  ability  and  impair  morale? 

26.  Are  the  reactions  of  ability  upon,  pluralistic  behavior  (a) 
more  profound,    (b)   more  dependable  and  enduring,  than  the 
reactions  of  morale? 

27.  What  are  the  reactions  upon  pluralistic  behavior  of  im- 
proved morale  when  there  is  no  increase  of  ability? 

28.  What  are  the  reactions  upon  pluralistic  behavior  of  more 
ability,  when  morale  is  not  improved  ? 

29.  How  does  the  relative  numerical  increase  of  adequate  men 
and   women  react  upon   the   drives,   the  mechanisms,   and  the 
achievements  of  collective  endeavor? 

30.  What  measures  of  the  phenomena  that  have  been  designated 
in  these  paragraphs  can  be  found  or  devised  ? 

If  the  limits  of  this  book  permitted  I  should  be  glad  to  present 
these  inquiries  more  concretely.  I  must  be  content  to  indicate 
the  concrete  aspect  of  two  of  them. 

Number  twenty-six  is  the  question  that  everybody  asked  when 
the  European  war  began  in  1914.  The  civilized  world  was  stunned. 
It  had  believed  that  science,  communication,  commerce,  acquaint- 
ance, humane  feeling,  and  reasonableness  had  made  a  general  war 
impossible.  Therefore  "when  the  thing  that  couldn't"  had  occurred 
we  asked  whether  civilization  was  more  than  a  veneer  of  habit 
laid  upon  a  character  of  savagery.  Is  it  more?  Has  it  ever  been 
more  than  a  morale  which  at  any  moment  might  break  down? 
Has  it  ever  selected  or  does  it  now  select  for  survival  trust- 
worthy characters  and  the  far-seeing  intelligences  that  can  be  re- 
lied on  to  weather  political  storms  of  envy  and  hate  ?  This  ques- 
tion has  not  been  answered.  Should  we  not  try  to  find  the  answer  ? 

Number  twenty-nine  is  the  question  that  the  world  at  present  is 
asking  about  Russia.  Since  prehistoric  times  the  inadequate  have 
said  "Let  George  do  it,  we  should  worry,"  and  George,  accepting 


FURTHER  INQUIRIES  OF  SOCIOLOGY  299 

the  commission,  has  made  himself  a  boss,  a  capitalist,  a  ruler,  and 
exploiter.  Now,  the  inadequate,  having  learned  how  by  sabotage 
and  violence  to  bully,  are  saying:  "Make  George  do  it.  Make 
those  who  have  been  adequate  enough  to  acquire  wealth  divide 
with  us  who  have  not  been.  Make  the  expert  take  orders  from 
us  the  non-expert."  Dictation  by  the  incompetent  is  no  more 
democracy,  however,  than  monarchy  is,  and  it  tends  to  work  out 
as  despotism.  Society  is  democratic  only  when  men,  saying 
neither  "Let  George  do  it,"  nor  "Make  George  do  it,"  say,  rather, 
"We  will  do  it,"  and  proceed  to  make  good.  But  this  saying  and 
this  doing  presuppose  a  diffusion  or  distribution  of  adequacy. 
How  extensive  must  the  distribution  be  ?  To  what  extent  do  the 
intellectually  inferior  spontaneously  trust  and  follow,  to  what 
extent  do  they  obstinately  distrust,  the  intellectually  superior? 
Can  we  alter  the  ratio,  or  might  one  as  well  attempt  by  taking 
thought  to  add  a  cubit  to  his  stature?  These  questions  have  not 
been  answered.  Should  we  not  try  to  find  the  answers? 

These  inquiries  sharpen  the  distinction  between  sociology  and 
economics,  with  which  we  set  forth.  Studies  of  actual  or  possible 
betterment  of  the  conditions  under  which  and  by  which  people 
live  are  economic  investigations  in  substance,  if  not  in  form. 
Studies  of  actual  or  possible  improvement  of  the  people  themselves 
are  sociological  investigations.  It  would  conduce  to  efficient  co- 
operation between  economists  and  sociologists,  if  this  discrimina- 
tion were  made  in  teaching  and  in  the  organization  of  university 
departments.  Studies  of  housing,  cost  of  living,  family  budgets, 
wages,  hours  and  conditions  of  labor,  insurance,  and  pensions  can 
be  well  taught  only  by  economists.  Studies  of  folkways,  social 
pressure  by  taboo  and  bullying,  social  selection,  organization,  and 
morale  can  best  be  taught  by  sociologists.  The  sociologist  should 
know  his  economics  well  enough  to  avoid  making  a  fool  of  him- 
self when  he  talks  about  economic  problems.  A  more  technical 
knowledge  of  the  subject  he  does  not  need  unless,  besides  being  a 
sociologist  he  is  also  professionally  an  economist.  As  a  sociologist 
he  must  be  technically  trained  and  proficient  in  the  behavioristic 
psychology  and  in  statistics ;  and  he  must  keep  in  touch  with  the 
workers  in  eugenics,  who  inquire  how  the  human  race  can  be  im- 


300    STUDIES  IN  THE  THEORY  OF  HUMAN  SOCIETY, 

proved  in  heredity,  and  with  the  workers  in  religion,  in  ethics,  and 
in  education,  who  are  the  technicians  of  morale. 

How  shall  the  further  inquiries  of  sociology  be  made?  What 
method  or  methods  can  be  used  and  relied  on  ? 

The  method  must  be  inductive  and  there  is  only  one  inductive 
method  that  sociology  can  use.  It  consists  of  three  steps.  First, 
accurate  first-hand  observations  must  be  made  in  great  number 
and  carefully  checked  up.  The  second-hand  observation  of  the 
interviewer  has  been  overworked;  it  can  yield  us  nothing  but  a 
journalistic  sociology.  Second,  observations  must  painstakingly 
be  recorded  and  intelligently  classified.  Third,  the  data  so  ob- 
tained and  prepared  must  be  subjected  to  statistical  analysis  for 
the  purpose  of  discovering  ratios,  modalities,  coefficients  of  varia- 
tion, and  correlations. 

What  facts  shall  be  observed?  Not  static  conditions  only  or 
chiefly.  The  survey  has  its  place  and  its  value,  but  it  can  never 
give  us  the  laws  of  social  change.  To  discover  these  we  must 
observe  and  analyze  social  experiments.  Social  evolution  has  pro- 
ceeded by  trial  and  error.  Mankind  has  made  more  experiments 
on  and  in  society  than  on  or  in  any  other  medium.  They  have 
been  imperfect,  errant,  often  erratic,  and  there  is  not  much  ground 
for  hope  that  in  the  future  they  will  become  scientifically  more 
satisfactory,  because  the  sociologist  cannot,  like  the  physicist  or 
the  biologist,  isolate  one  factor  of  a  situation  after  another  either 
by  changing  it  while  all  other  factors  are  kept  unchanged,  or  by 
keeping  it  unchanged  while  all  other  factors  are  changed.  Dis- 
couraged by  this  difficulty  Mill  in  his  Logic  mistakenly  tells  us 
that  the  social  sciences  cannot  successfully  employ  induction  to 
any  great  extent,  and  must  rely  on  the  deductive  reasoning  used 
by  the  classical  political  economy.  Mill  apparently  knew  nothing 
of  statistical  theory  or  practice.  Happily  it  is  often  possible 
statistically  to  isolate  a  factor  and  measure  its  value  even  when, 
from  a  laboratory  viewpoint  experimentation  has  been  inconclu- 
sive. Scientifically  imperfect  social  experimentation  is  going  on 
at  present  throughout  the  world.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  sociologist 
to  observe  and  analyze  it. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Achaeans,  of  Homer,  a  Danubean 
stock,  73. 

Adams,  Brooks,  interpretation  of 
history  by,  67. 

Adams,  Henry  and  Brooks,  brothers, 
their  theories  of  history,  66. 

Adequacy,  selection  and  develop- 
ment of,  the  function  of  society, 
291  seq. 

Alpine  race,  73. 

Althusius,  Johannes,  on  sovereignty, 
106. 

Amelioration,  285  seq. 

Aquitani,  of  Caesar's  Gaul,  a  Medi- 
terranean stock,  73. 

Aristocracy,  definition  of,  87. 

Aristotle,  on  early  institutions,  87 ; 
his  theory  of  society,  102,  103 ;  on 
likemindedness,  168;  as  scientific 
investigator,  225;  on  slavery,  236; 
on  adequacy,  294. 

Augustine,  Saint,  social  philosophy 
of,  104. 

Aurelius,  Marcus  (Aurelius)  Anto- 
ninus, quoted,  245,  246. 


Baarda,  M.  J.,  van,  cited,  48. 

Bagehot,  Walter,  on  problems  of  so- 
cial causation,  5  seq. ;  on  most  ter- 
rible of  tyrannies,  6,  18;  on  pre- 
liminary age,  27 ;  on  custom,  191 ; 
on  public  polity,  210;  methods  and 
achievements  of,  211,  212;  on  war, 
213,  214,  219;  on  government  by 
discussion,  222. 

Balance  of  power,  221,  222. 

Baldwin,  Mark,  on  concept  of  self, 
161,  162,  163. 

Baltic  race,  73. 

Behavior,  subinstinctive,  156,  250; 
herd,  156,  158;  instinctive,  156,  157, 
250;  pluralistic,  145,  152  seq.,  251 
seq.,  292,  298. 

Belgae,  of  Caesar's  Gaul,  a  Danu- 
bean stock,  73. 

Benini,  Rodolfo,  on  statistical  meas- 


ure of  consciousness  of  kind,  120, 
121. 

Bodin,  Jean,  on  sovereignty,  106. 

Boehmond,  of  Tarentum,  Crusader, 
170. 

Bradford,  William,  belief  of  in  di- 
vine providence  in  New  England 
history,  52. 

Breasted,  James  Henry,  quoted,  72. 

Brehm,  Alfred  Edmund,  contribu- 
tion of  to  study  of  instinct,  39. 

Brunetiere,  Ferdinand,  on  failure  of 
science,  no. 

Brythonic  Celts,  a  Danubean  stock, 
73- 

Buckle,  Henry  Thomas,  interpreta- 
tion of  history  by,  67,  112;  on  re- 
gional influences,  146. 

Budge,  Ernest  Alfred,  on  "Constitu- 
tion of  Athens"  as  work  of  Aris- 
totle, 87. 

"Bunch,"  as  simplest  of  social 
groups,  269. 

Butcher,  S.  H.,  on  Greek  concept  of 
the  individual,  225. 

Caesar,  Julius,  his  discrimination  of 
races,  73;  his  studies  in  ethnic 
character,  104. 

Carnegie,  Andrew,  his  interest  in 
peace,  213. 

Cause  and  causation,  130,  131. 

Celts,  of  Caesar's  Gaul,  an  Alpine 
stock,  73. 

Chance,  its  significance,  141-143. 

Cicero,  on  laws,  104;  his  definition 
of  a  people,  123. 

Circumstantial  pressure,  254-256. 

Clark,  John  Bates,  on  utility  and 
value,  33.  ^ 

Class,  scientific  definition  of,  131. 

Clifford,  William  Kingdon,  his  con- 
ception and  definition  of  term 
"eject",  161,  162. 

Clinias,  the  Cretan,  his  questionings 
as  to  source  of  laws,  94. 

Collective  life,  modes  of,  84-87. 


303 


304 


INDEX 


Composition,  social,  269. 

Comte,  Auguste,  his  interpretation 
of  history,  66,  67;  "la  sociologie", 
no,  in;  his  hierarchy  of  the  sci- 
ences, 134;  on  public  polity,  210, 
21 1 ;  on  human  progress,  293. 

Concerted  volition,  261,  262,  296. 

Condorcet,  Jean  Antoine,  on  nature 
of  man,  112. 

Congregation,  255. 

Consciousness,  of  kind,  17,  61,  62, 
163,  164-169,  203,  205,  260,  262,  265, 
283,  292,  296;  conversationalized, 
161,  259;  social,  62,  283. 

Constitution,  social,  269. 

Constraint,  social,  203  seq. 

Consumption,  standardization  of,  61. 

Conversationalized  consciousness, 
161,  259. 

Cooley,  Charles  Horton,  on  social 
consciousness,  62,  283. 

Cooper,  James  Fenimore,  cited,  50. 

Correlation,  definition  of,  132,  133. 

Coordination,  definition  of,  272. 

Cournot,  Augustine,  on  utility  and 
value,  33. 

Crusades,  psychological  character  of, 
170,  171. 

Culture,  as  an  economy,  21  seq. ; 
conflicts  of,  175  seq. 

Curthose,  Robert,  Crusader,  170. 

Curve,  of  error,  109;  normal,  223. 

Danubean  race,  73. 

Dante,  his  vindication  of  the  rational 
claim  of  the  secular  empire,  105; 
on  imitation,  115,  116. 

Darwin,  Charles,  Darwinism  and 
social  philosophy,  3  seq. ;  on  strug- 
gle for  existence,  13,  14;  utility, 
33;  organic  economy,  37;  collec- 
tive action,  39;  mental  resource, 
226 ;  better  and  fit,  267. 

Degradation,  of  energy,  136  seq. 

Democracy,  definition  of,  88. 

Demosthenes,  quoted,  209. 

Demotic  factors  of  likemindedness, 
255  seq. 

Determinism  and  free  will,  141-143. 

De  Vries,  Hugo,  on  mutations  and 
fluctuations,  7. 

Discipline,  as  product  of  social  self- 
control,  206,  207. 

Dramatization,  in  pluralistic  behav- 
ior, 161,  259. 

Durkheim,  Emile,  on  relation  of 
consciousness  of  kind  to  social  or- 
ganization, 62;  his  social  theory, 


115;  on  division  of  social  labor, 
283. 

Economy,  consumption  and  produc- 
tion, 27-32;  concepts  of,  34,  35; 
four  stages  of,  23,  24,  30,  36  seq. ; 
organic,  36-38,  53,  54;  instinctive, 
38-40,  53,  54;  apprehensive  and 
ceremonial,  36,  42-54;  luck,  42-46; 
magic,  46-50,  53,  54;  sacrificial,  51- 
54 ;  ascertaining,  36,  54  seq. ;  busi- 
ness, 36,  54,  55;  slave,  55;  trade, 
55;  capitalistic,  55. 

Ego,  Baldwin's  concept  of,  162,  163 ; 
socialized,  166. 

Eliot,  George,  quoted,  224. 

Empedocles  on  likemindedness,  168. 

Environment,  physical,  effect  on  hu- 
man behavior  of,  145-150;  and  nat- 
ural selection,  202;  physical,  as  a 
stimulus,  253. 

Epicurus,  his  theory  of  society,  107. 

Equilibration  of  energy,  137  seq. 

Evolution,  Spencerian  account  of,  3, 
113;  social,  Bagehot's  account  of, 
6;  social,  Kidd's  account  of,  9,  10; 
mechanistic,  139,  140. 

Fact,  scientific  definition  of,  131. 

Feminism,  186  seq. 

Festus,  quoted,  218. 

Fiske,  John,  on  sociality,  8,  9;  on 
prolongation  of  infancy,  8,  9. 

Folkways,  18,  159,  191  seq.,  206,  263, 
264,  285,  293,  296. 

Fourier,  Jean  Baptiste,  on  popula- 
tion of  Paris,  108. 

Fowler,  W.  Warde,  on  magic  econ- 
omy, 49,  51. 

Frazer,  J.  G.,  on  magic,  46,  48. 

Free  will,  and  determinism,  141-143. 

Frequency,  statistical,  207. 

"Gang",  simplest  arrangement  of  in- 
dividuals that  go,  work  or  play  to- 
gether, 269. 

Galton,  Francis,  on  natural  inher- 
itance, 12;  on  sources  of  Greek 
genius,  76. 

Genetic  aggregation,  255,  270. 

Germans,  of  Caesar's  Gual,  a  Baltic 
stock,  73. 

Gillen,  F.  J.,  on  magic,  46,  48. 

Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  Crusader,  170. 

Goidelic  Celts,  an  Alpine  stock,  73. 

Good  life,  Plato's  concept  of,  102. 

Gottschalk,  the  priest,  unorganized 
crusade  of,  171. 


INDEX 


305 


Government  by  discussion,  222,  223. 
Grant,  U.  S.,  on  how  to  abolish  a 

bad  law,  194. 
Graunt,  John,  on  statistics  of  mor^ 

tality,  108. 
"Great  man",  in  relation  to  public 

policy  and  social  order,  105. 
Gregariousness,  S,  156-158,  163,  166, 

258-260,  292. 
Grinnell,  G.  B.,  cited,  48. 
Gubernatis,  Angelo  de,  on  magic,  49. 

Habits,  of  the  herd,  157,  158,  201, 
251,  252,  254,  259. 

Halley,  Edmund,  on  birth  and  death 
rates,  108. 

Happiness,  Herbert  Spencer  on,  in. 

Harrison,  Jane  Ellen,  cited,  264. 

Hegel,  Georg  Wilhelm  Friedrich,  his 
philosophy  of  history,  66. 

Hellenes,  a  Danubean  stock,  73. 

Herd,  behavior  of,  8,  156-158,  163; 
vs.  society,  166;  cooperation  in 
the,  201 ;  pluralistic  reactions  in 
the,  258;  instinct  of,  259;  habits 
of  the,  157,  158,  201,  251,  252,  254, 

259- 

Hesiod,  on  luck  economy,  44,  45. 
History,  interpretations  of,  66,  67,  89 

seq. 
Hobbes,    Thomas,    on    sovereignty, 

106. 
Holmes,    Oliver    Wendell,    quoted, 

1 60. 

Hugh  the  Great,  Crusader,  170. 
Huntington,  Ellsworth,  on  influence 

of    environment   on   behavior   of 

man,  67,  80,  147,  255. 
Huxley,  Thomas  Henry,  on  moral 

freedom,  142,  143,  226. 
Hyndman,   Henry   Mayers,   quoted, 

233- 

Imitation,  116. 

Individual,  as  creator  of  society,  104, 
107 ;  as  product  of  society,  102-104, 
107. 

Indiyiduation,  288,  289. 

Instincts,  in  gregariousness,  156-158, 
258,  260. 

Interstimulation,  257-259,  295. 

Irritability,  as  quality  of  living  mat- 
ter, 154,  160. 

"It",  as  mana,  46. 

James,  William,  contrary  impulses, 
42,  212;  psychological  constitution 
of  the  individual,  161. 


Jennings,  H.  S.,  behavior  of  lower 

organisms,  156. 
Jevons,  W.  Stanley,  his  theory  of 

consumption,  28;  on  utility,  33,  34; 

on  causation,  131. 
Johnson,  Edward,  belief  of  in  divine 

providence  in  New  England  his- 
tory, 52. 
Justice,   Plato's  conception  of,   102, 

in;  Spencer's  conception  of,  in; 

as  adjustment  and  readjustment, 

282. 

Kakistocracy,  definition  of,  88. 

Kepler,  Johann,  on  planetary  orbits, 
131. 

Kidd,  Benjamin,  on  social  evolution, 
9,  10,  n. 

Kingsley,  Mary  H.,  on  magic  in 
West  Africa,  46. 

Kinship,  matrilinear  and  matrojiy- 
mic,  85-87,  270;  patrilinear  and 
patronymic,  85-87,  270. 

Kirchhoff,  Gustav  Robert,  his  defini- 
tion of  mechanics,  127,  128. 

Kropotkin,  Prince  Peter  Aleksee- 
vich,  on  mutual  aid  among  ani- 
mals, 7,  8,  39. 

Lamarck,  Jean  Baptiste,  on  adapta- 
tion, 112,  113. 

Laplace,  Pierre  Simon,  on  quanti- 
tative method  in  sociological  re- 
search, 1 08,  no. 

Laschi,  R.,  on  political  crime,  245. 

Leaders,  as  causes  of  war,  220, 
221. 

Likemindedness,  167,  168,  256,  257, 
260,  263,  280,  283,  284,  296. 

Lloyd,  John  Uri,  on  changing  luck, 
49- 

Locke,  John,  on  sovereignty,  107. 

Lombroso,  Cesare,  on  political 
crime,  245. 

Longstaff,  G.  B.,  quoted,  241,  242. 

Lowie,  Robert,  on  primitive  society, 
85,  86. 

Luck,  belief  in  as  factor  in  primi- 
tive economy,  42-46. 

McDougall,  William,  on  gregarious- 
ness, 259. 

Mach,  Ernst,  on  nature  of  science, 
127  seq. 

Machiavelli,  Nicolo,  on  leadership, 
105,  106,  115. 

MacMillan,  George  Blundell,  on 
structure  of  the  atom,  89. 


306 


INDEX 


Magic,  in  early  economy,  29,  46-54; 
Frazer  on,  46,  55,  182. 

Maine,  Henry  Sumner,  on  early  in- 
stitutions, 86;  on  custom,  191. 

Mallock,  William  Hurrell,  on  strug- 
gle for  domination,  n,  12. 

Malthus,  Thomas  Robert,  death 
rates,  theory  of  population,  3,  7. 

Mana,  22,  46,  47,  85,  270. 

Mannhardt,  W.,  on  ceremonial 
magic,  48. 

Marshall,  Alfred,  his  theory  of  con- 
sumption, 28. 

Marshall,  Henry  Rutgers,  on  hesita- 
tion in  reasoning,  42. 

Marx,  Karl,  his  theory  of  history, 
66,  67,  83. 

Masculinism,  186. 

Mather,  Cotton,  belief  of  in  divine 
providence  in  New  England  his- 
tory, 52. 

Mather,  Increase,  belief  of  in  divine 
providence  in  New  England  his- 
tory, 52. 

Matrilinear  and  matronymic  descent 
and  kinship,  85,  86,  87,  270. 

Maudsley,   Henry,  cited,   164. 

Mayo-Smith,  Richmond,  on  statis- 
tical methods,  120. 

Mediterranean  race,  73. 

Megillus  of  Lacedaemon,  his  ques- 
tionings as  to  source  of  law,  94. 

Mendel,  Johann  Gregor,  on  law  of 
heredity,  7. 

Menger,  Carl,  on  utility  and  value,  33. 

Mentalized  organism,  155. 

Militarism,  as  stage  in  social  evolu- 
tion, 114. 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  concept  of  causa- 
tion, 131;  on  laissez-faire,  190;  on 
use  of  deductive  method  in  social 
sciences,  300. 

Mind,  of  the  many,  154  seq. ;  medi- 
aeval, 154;  as  activity  of  men- 
talized  organisms,  155,  162;  social, 
265,  266,  283. 

Misoneism,  245. 

Mobmindedness,  170,  171. 

Mode,  statistical,  202,  207,  282. 

Moelmud,  Dyvnwal,  quoted,  159. 

Montesquieu,  Charles  de  Secondat, 
his^theory  of  history,  67;  his  use 
of  inductive  method,  107,  108;  on 
the  nature  of  man,  112;  on  the 
effects  of  climate,  146. 

Morale,  as  product  of  social  self- 
control,  and  of  other  factors,  206, 
295,  297,  298. 


Mores,  18,  31,  192,  264,  278,  296 
Morselli,  Henry,  on  suicide  as  a  phe- 
nomenon of  civilization,  242 

Natural  selection,  as  factor  in  hu- 
man progress,  4,  5;  vs.  progress, 
9,  10;  in  society,  202 

Nature,  scientific  interpretation  of, 
62,  63 ;  state  of,  106,  107 ;  original, 
112;  second,  112;  human,  improv- 
ability  of,  112 

Newton,  Isaac,  on  law  of  gravita- 
tion, no 

Norm,  202,  282 

Ollivier,  Emile,  quoted,  217 

Orenda,  46. 

Ovid,  on  magic,  48,  49. 

Panic,  likemindedness  as  factor  of, 
164,  165. 

Patrilinear  and  patronymic  descent 
and  kinship,  85-87,  270. 

Patten,  Simon  N.,  on  consumption 
economy,  27,  28. 

Paul,  the  Apostle,  on  likeminded- 
ness, 167,  168. 

Pawlow,  Ivan  Petrovitch,  on  condi- 
tioned reflex,  155,  265. 

Payne,  Edward  John,  on  evolution 
of  language,  53. 

Pearson,  Karl,  progress  by  selection 
and  inheritance,  12 ;  on  social  the- 
ory, 107;  on  science,  130. 

Peter,  the  Apostle,  on  likeminded- 
ness, 168. 

Peter,  the  Hermit,  his  Crusade,  171. 

Petroff,  I.,  cited,  47. 

Philoneism,  245. 

Picts,  a  Danubean  stock,  73. 

Plato,  his  interpretation  of  history, 
66,  67;  theory  of  laws,  95,  96; 
theory  of  society,  102,  103,  in; 
on  likemindedness,  168;  on  specu- 
lative method,  225 ;  on  individual 
and  the  state,  227;  on  adequacy, 
294. 

Platonism,  its  view  of  the  nature  of 
man,  112. 

Pluralistic  behavior,  144,  152  seq., 
250  seq.,  292,  298. 

Plurel,  92,  251,  268. 

Plutocracy,  definition  of,  88. 

Political  force,  105. 

Post-Darwinism,  its  influence  on  so- 
cial theory,  7. 

Power,  contagious,  as  mana,  46,  47. 


INDEX 


307 


Preferential  association,  as  begin- 
ning of  society,  166. 

Pressure,  social,  121,  200  seq.,  263 
seq. ;  circumstantial,  254-256,  263. 

Probability  curve,  109,  no. 

Progress,  119. 

Prolongation,  of  infancy,  John 
Fiske's  theory  of,  8. 

Protocracy,  267,  268,  270,  273,  375, 
276. 

Quetelet,  Lambert  Adolphe  Jacques, 
on  statistical  methods,  108,  109. 

Races,  European,  73,  91. 

Ratzell,  Friedrich,  on  effects  of  geo- 
graphical features  on  m'an,  147. 

Ratzenhofer,  Gustav,  on  "interests", 
267. 

Raymond,  of  Toulouse,  Crusader, 
170. 

Read,  Carveth,  his  theory  of  hu- 
man origins,  158. 

Reason  and  reasoning,  nature  and 
processes  of,  47,  50,  53,  54,  55,  154- 
156. 

Reconditioned  reflex,  155. 

Religion,  elemental,  original  fac- 
tors of,  9,  10,  ii. 

Ribot,  Theodule  Armand,  on  psy- 
chological constitution  of  the  in- 
dividual, 161. 

Robert  of  Flanders,  Crusader,  170. 

Ross,  Edward  Alsworth,  on  social 
control,  200;  on  psychological  as- 
cendancy, 268. 

Ross,  Frank  A.,  example  of  psycho- 
logical group  cited  from,  159. 

Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  on  the  so- 
cial contract,  260. 

Russell,  Bertrand,  on  perceptions 
and  conceptions,  130. 

Saint  Simon,  Claude  Henri,  social 
revolutionist,  his  influence  on 
Comte,  211. 

Schaffle,  Albert  Eberhard  Friedrich, 
his  theory  of  society,  115. 

Seebohm,  Frederick,  on  inequalities 
in  early  society,  87. 

Seebohm,  Hugh,  on  Greek  tribal 
society,  87. 

Semple,  Ellen  Churchill,  on  influ- 
ence of  environment  on  behavior 
of  man,  67,  147. 

Seneca,  on  Roman  civilization,  57. 

Sensitivity,  discriminated  from  irri- 
tability, 154,  155,  160. 


Sewall,  Samuel,  belief  of  in  divine 
providence  in  New  England  his- 
tory, 52. 

Skeat,  W.  W.,  on  magic  in  Malay 
Peninsula,  46,  48. 

Small,  Albion  W.,  on  "interests", 
267. 

Smith,  Adam,  on  division  of  labor, 
62,  283,  284. 

Smith,  Robertson,  on  primitive 
leadership,  86. 

Social  composition,  269. 

Social  consciousness,  62,  283. 

Social  constitution,  269. 

Social  constraint,  203  seq. 

Social  evolution,  6,  9,  10. 

Social  pressure,  121,  200  seq.,  263 
seq. 

Social  solidarity,  265,  266. 

Sociality,  John  Fiske's  discrimina- 
tion of,  8. 

Socialization,  287,  288. 

Society,  Bagehot's  theory  of,  6;  Sen- 
eca on  Roman,  57 ;  types  of,  85- 
88 ;  Aristotle's  theory  of,  102,  103 ; 
Plato's  theory  of,  102,  103,  in; 
Epicurus's  theory  of,  107 ;  Schaf- 
fle's  theory  of,  115;  function  of, 
in,  112,  291,  292;  Spencer's  the- 
ory of,  113,115,121;  as  preferen- 
tial association,  166;  material  of, 
167,  168;  changes  in,  169-171;  as 
constraining  force,  201-208;  as 
means  to  end,  226,  227 ;  and  the 
individual,  224-229;  progress  of, 
230  seq. ;  duties  of,  244,  245 ;  con- 
sciousness of  kind  as  factor  in, 
263;  as  selective  force,  267. 

Solidarity,  group  and  collective  con- 
flict, Bagehot's  theory  of,  5,  6  j  in 
the  gregarious  group,  8;  in  Amer- 
ica, 60,  61 ;  from  like  response, 
116;  creation  of  by  police  power, 
185 ;  industrial,  201 ;  social,  265, 
266;  behavioristic,  268,  269,  280. 

Sovereignty,  conceptions  of,  106, 
107,  194,  276,  277,  278. 

Spencer,  Baldwin,  on  magic  in  Cen- 
tral Australia,  46,  48. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  on  evolution,  3-5 ; 
his  interpretation  of  history,  67; 
on  function  of  society,  in,  112; 
on  social  theory,  113-115,  121;  on 
mechanistic  evolution,  139,  140; 
environment,  146,  147;  laissez- 
faire,  190;  folkways,  191;  public 
polity,  210,  211 ;  war,  213  seq.,  266; 
human  progress,  293. 


308 


INDEX 


State,  of  nature,  106,  107;  definition 
of,  276;  vs.  folkways,  293. 

State  ways,  192  seq.,  206. 

Stoicism,  its  view  of  the  nature  of 
man,  112. 

Subordination,  272. 

Sumner,  William  Graham,  on  folk- 
ways, 18,  191,  263,  293;  on  war, 
279. 

Superordination,  272. 

Sutherland,  Alexander,  on  origin 
and  growth  of  moral  instinctj  9. 

Taboo,  22,  23,  28,  182,  270. 

Tacitus,  descriptive  studies  of  ethnic 
character,  20,  104. 

Tarde,  Gabriel,  on  imitation,  6,  116, 
212. 

Taylor,  Henry  Osborn,  on  the  medi- 
aeval mind,  154. 

Themistes,  264. 

Thorndike,  Edward  L.,  on  original 
nature,  112. 

Totemism,  22,  85. 

Trial  and  error,  155,  156,  293,  204. 

Trotter,  W.,  on  instincts  of  the  herd, 
259- 

Turbulence,  its  relation  to  evolu- 
tion, to  free  will,  143. 

Type,  society  as  a,  202,  206,  208, 
282. 


Utility,  Wallace's  conception  of,  33, 
34;  Jevons's  conception  of,  33,  34. 

Van  Hook,  La  Rue,  on  Athenian 

democracy,  76. 
Virtue,  as  mana,  46,  85. 

Wakunda,  46. 

Wallace,  Alfred  Russel,  on  prin- 
ciple of  utility,  33,  34,  39;  on  men- 
tal resource,  226. 

Walras,  Leon,  on  utility  and  value, 

33- 

Walter  the  Penniless,  his  Crusade, 
170. 

War,  as  integrating  force,  213-217; 
causes  of,  218-221. 

Ward,  Lester  Frank,  on  education 
and  knowledge  as  means  to  social 
amelioration,  286,  293. 

Weismann,  Auguste,  on  continuity 
of  germ  plasm,  7,  112. 

Wells,  H.  G.,  his  Outline  of  His- 
tory, 93. 

Wieser,  Friedrich  von,  on  utility  and 
value,  33. 

Woodworth,  Robert  Sessions,  on  in- 
stinct, 155 ;  on  drive  and  mechan- 
ism, 275. 

Zeno,  his  social  theory,  103. 


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